


Die Träumer

by Prince_of_Elsinore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Berlin (City), Brother/Brother Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_of_Elsinore/pseuds/Prince_of_Elsinore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He sometimes wondered how things might have been different, how his relationship with Gilbert might be different, if their parents had stayed together." Modern day human Germancest AU in Berlin.  The city is changing, and so is the relationship of two estranged brothers.  *Chapters 1-4 REVISED* as of Oct. 4, 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ***UPDATE*** Heavily revised as of October 4, 2015.
> 
> This story is inspired by and loosely based on the film "Close My Eyes."
> 
> Translations for German and notes are at the end of each chapter.
> 
> Warnings: language, incestuous themes, boy x boy
> 
> Disclaimer: Hetalia doesn't belong to me, nor does "Close My Eyes" (just to be safe, even if this story is only loosely based on it)

It was only by chance that Ludwig decided to check his emails one last time before heading to bed. He liked to get to sleep early, but his boss had been known to send him last-minute requests as late as 10 pm. Ridiculous really. He ought to put more effort into his perfunctory scans for job openings. Joining one of the fastest growing property development firms in Berlin wasn't everything he'd thought it would be, even after three years. Time to move on.

And that was why, at 10:18 on a Sunday night, Ludwig happened to see the newest message in his inbox:

_Hi Ludwig,_

_It's been a while. Sorry I haven't been in touch more. Wanted to let you know I'm leaving my job Kiel—going to give Berlin a try. I'm coming in Tuesday morning and was hoping I could stay with you for just a few days, till I get settled into my new place. Let me know._

_Gilbert_

Ludwig reread the message several times before sighing and closing his computer. He'd reply to his brother tomorrow. He figured he didn't need to waste any more of his precious sleep time for the sake of a brother he'd barely had more than a few phone calls from in the past three years since their father's passing.

Ludwig was a little disgruntled as he tried to get comfortable under his duvet. His flat was small. But Gilbert could sleep on the couch, he supposed.

...

"Hey, little brother." Gilbert grinned, a little sheepishly, as he stood on the doormat. He adjusted his grip on the strap of his duffel.

"You're late. I have to get to work." Ludwig turned to gather up his briefcase and umbrella. The forecast for the day was rain.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "Nice to see you too," he muttered as he stepped over the threshold.

"Extra key's on the kitchen table. You can set your stuff in the living room. You'll be sleeping on the couch."

Gilbert nodded, standing awkwardly to the side of the entryway as his brother headed back to the door.

"Oh, and Gilbert—" Ludwig turned, as if on afterthought—"don't touch my beer," and closed the door behind him.

…

"So… what will you be doing this evening?"

"Working."

"No, I mean later."

Ludwig looked up from his toast and coffee at his brother across the table. Gilbert was still in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, hair rumpled with sleep. At least he was out of bed.

"Working," he repeated. "Here. At home."

"Sheesh, you busy all the time or somethin'?"

"No, not all the time. However, it might appear that way to someone who leads a life of leisure."

Gilbert frowned. "Told you, I'm between jobs. I'll find something."

"Hmm. And your apartment? How's that coming along?"

"I'm working on it."

Ludwig sighed. "Gilbert, you can't stay here, you know."

"I told you, I'm on it, okay?"

Ludwig pursed his lips. "Okay."

…

Ludwig couldn't see any sign of his brother being "on it." For the following three nights in a row, when Ludwig came home from work (late, as his boss had been pressing him especially hard recently) he found Gilbert on the couch in front of the TV, beer in hand. Having been banned from Ludwig's supply, Gilbert had been quick to cram a few six-packs of his own in the fridge.

The first night Ludwig had politely declined Gilbert's invitation to join him in watching reruns of "Germany's Next Top Model," taking his solitary dinner into his study, as he was accustomed to do. Gilbert didn't bother him again after that, but Ludwig had to raise an eyebrow at the number of bottles he noticed accumulating on the counter.

Gilbert insisted he had some job interviews lined up, but Ludwig wasn't sure he believed him.

On Saturday morning Gilbert didn't join him at the table for breakfast. Once Ludwig had finished and put his dishes in the dishwasher, he wandered into the living room to see if his brother was still sleeping.

Sure enough, there he was, snoring gently with his hand tucked under the pillow. The blanket had slipped off his shoulder; on instinct Ludwig reached over and gently pulled it back up. Gilbert stirred, but didn't wake.

Ludwig noticed a slight frown on his brother's features, and wondered if it was always there when he slept. He wouldn't know; he hadn't lived with Gilbert since he was eight years old, when their parents had divorced. Gilbert had gone to live with their mother, and Ludwig had stayed with their father, and they'd only seen each other twice a year at most after that.

He and Gilbert had never gotten along that well as kids, but Ludwig supposed he'd missed having his big brother around as he'd gotten older. He sometimes wondered how things might have been different, how his relationship with Gilbert might be different, if their parents had stayed together.

Their mother had died of cancer when Gilbert was at university, though, and their father's heart disease had finally caught up with him as Ludwig was finishing his Master's. With both their parents gone, he and Gilbert had little left in common.

Ludwig decided it would be a good day to take his bike over to Tempelhof. The recently opened park at the former airport was a godsend of sorts; it seemed the only place where he could get some peace of mind, these days. Just leave his work and the city behind, no buildings, no construction, and just ride and ride through the vast open space.

He left a note for his brother on the coffee table:

_Coffee is in the kitchen. You can make yourself toast but don't eat all the Nutella. I'll be back this afternoon._

The coffee would probably be cold by the time Gilbert woke up, but Ludwig had a microwave.

…

Ludwig was surprised to find his brother gone when he returned later with groceries. He cleaned the kitchen, the shower, and the toilet, and was nearly done hanging the last of the laundry on the folding racks in the bathroom when he heard the door open again.

" _Hallo_ ," called Gilbert from the entryway.

Ludwig popped his head out of the bathroom. "Ah, hello Gilbert. Where have you been?" He eyed the plastic bags in his brother's arms questioningly.

"Went shopping! Thought I could make dinner tonight, for the two of us," Gilbert said cheerily as he bustled into the kitchen.

"I already bought _Spargel_ for dinner," said Ludwig blankly, following his brother.

Gilbert grinned. "Great! We can have it on the side. I'm making _Königsberger Klopse_."

"In this weather? Isn't it a little warm?"

"Nah, _Klopse_ are good any time of year!"

Ludwig wanted to argue—he would prefer asparagus over meatballs on a warm night like this—but decided against it. Gilbert was trying to make a nice gesture, so he supposed he ought to appreciate it.

…

Ludwig had to admit, his brother was a better cook than he would have thought. He enjoyed dinner, even if the conversation was a little stilted.

Afterwards Gilbert convinced him to join him for a beer in the living room.

Once he was on the second beer (really his third, since he'd had a pils with dinner too) he decided to ask something he'd been wondering for a while.

"Why did you decide to leave Kiel? I thought you liked it there."

Gilbert took a long swig from his Beck's. "Liked it? …Nah, not enough going on there. It's full of students, but I'm not a student anymore. I wanted more excitement, more options. Wanted the big city."

"But your job was good, wasn't it?"

"It paid the bills. But it was never what I wanted to do."

"Oh yeah? What did you want to do?" He was honestly curious, in spite of himself.

"Oh, nothing, it's… kinda stupid really."

"No, come on, tell me."

"Well I… I always wanted a career in music. I mean, I know it's unrealistic, to try to make it as a performer, but just—something that would involve a bit more creativity, rather than punching numbers all the time…"

Ludwig took a thoughtful draught. "I remember you telling me about that band you were in… what was it? 'The Bad…' something…"

Gilbert laughed. "Oh yeah, 'The Bad Touch Trio.' Man, that was ages ago, surprised you remember."

"When did you guys break up?"

"When we graduated from university! Man… Y'know last I heard from Antonio he was in Berlin, actually. I should look him up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you know, lots of Spaniards coming in for internships these days."

"Yeah."

Gilbert opened another bottle. "Hey… thanks for putting me up, for a while. I'll be out of your hair soon."

"No, it's okay." Ludwig shrugged. At the moment, he did feel okay with it. This was surprisingly nice, sharing a few beers with his brother and talking properly, like they hadn't for years.

Ludwig reached for another bottle as well. "It's good to… catch up."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Gilbert took a long drink and sighed. "Yeah. Y'know, I'm sorry I haven't been so good at keeping in touch. I mean, it's really good of you to let me stay here on such short notice, after I haven't—I mean, not hearing from me for so long—I'll, I'll be better, about that. And I mean, now we're in the same city."

"No, it's—it's not just your fault. I'm not so good about calling either." Ludwig turned the bottle guiltily around in his hands. He supposed he really could have tried harder to keep in regular contact with Gilbert. But with his job and all, he'd just… been busy.

"Y'know I uh, there's… actually there's another reason I left Kiel."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I had a girlfriend. Pretty serious actually."

"A girlfriend? You never told me." It was true Ludwig didn't keep his brother exactly updated on his own love life, but something hurt just a bit about being kept in the dark about this.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I, uh… Well. She left me, so. I didn't feel like I could stay. Well, I couldn't. I was living in her apartment."

Ludwig took a gulp of his beer. "Damn."

"Yeah." After a pause, Gilbert added. "Needed a change of scene. So much there just reminded me of her."

Ludwig looked over at his brother. "How long were you together?"

"Nearly a year."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Gilbert looked sad, gazing down at his bottle. For some reason, it made Ludwig feel guilty.

"Hey," he said, reaching his bottle out. " _Prost_."

Gilbert met his eyes and grinned ruefully. " _Prost_ ," he responded, clinking their bottles together.

Gilbert didn't look away as they drained the rest of their beers.

Ludwig was feeling a little fuzzy-headed. He didn't usually drink so quickly, but he accepted the bottle Gilbert handed to him anyway.

"Are you happy?"

The question came out of the blue and caught Ludwig by surprise. "Happy?"

"Yeah, happy."

"Uh…" Ludwig had to admit it wasn't a question he often considered. "I… guess?" Work was tiring, but he couldn't really complain. It paid well; he had a comfortable enough flat. "I don't feel unhappy."

"Uh-uh, that's not the same thing."

"No?"

"Nope. You're lucky, if you're happy. Not many people are."

"You don't think so?"

"No."

"…You're not happy?"

Gilbert snorted. "My girlfriend of 11 months just dumped me, how do you think I feel?"

"Ah, yeah. So, unhappy."

Gilbert was silent a moment, drinking his beer and staring off into the distance. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I think I am. I don't… I don't know what I'm doing with my life, y'know? I feel like the past few years… it's just, been such a fucking waste. That's not what I want to do. And I thought Clara was like, the one, you know? And I wasted 11 fucking months with her, planning for a future that's never gonna happen… Just…"

Ludwig laid an awkward hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hey, it's not… I'm sure it's not that bad," he said lamely, because he didn't know what else he could say.

Gilbert looked over at him. He brought an arm up over Ludwig's shoulder. "And now you're all I got. A little brother I never talk to."

Ludwig blinked. He couldn't tell if that was supposed to be slightly joking or not.

But then suddenly Gilbert was leaning forward, head resting against Ludwig's shoulder.

Ludwig looked down in surprise, unsure what he should do. Did Gilbert want him to hug him? He couldn't even remember the last time he had hugged his brother.

"Funny, isn't it?"

Ludwig didn't know what his brother was referring to.

"Guess that's what family's for though, isn't it. Last person to turn to when you don't have anyone else left. And you're my only family now."

"Uh…" Ludwig had never really thought of it that way. But he supposed Gilbert was his family. His only family. "Yeah," he said, unsure. Gilbert wasn't moving, so he set his beer down and brought his arms around his brother in a stiff sort of hug.

Ludwig felt a bit uncomfortable—the position was rather intimate, and he hadn't held anyone in his arms in quite a long while. But his brother wasn't drawing away; he seemed like he needed the consolation.

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"You have anyone?"

Ludwig felt his face heating up a bit. He had never told his brother directly about his tastes, and he wasn't sure if Gilbert had ever guessed.

"Uh, no, not at the moment." He cleared his throat.

"You're into guys, right?" Gilbert traced his other hand up Ludwig's arm to his shoulder and locked his wrists behind his neck, as if he needed the extra support. His cold beer bottle, still clutched in one hand, pressed into Ludwig's flesh and made him shiver.

Ludwig's stomach squirmed uncomfortably. This didn't feel right.

He shifted a little, looking away. His hands felt leaden though, anchored to his brother's sides.

Gilbert pulled back just enough to look at his face. "What, you don't have to hide it from me," he laughed. "I've always known." He smirked.

Ludwig flushed and tried to pull away a little, though his arms remained where they were. "I should, um, get to bed," he muttered.

"Wait, wait." Gilbert's arms locked tighter around his neck. His head fell forward onto Ludwig's shoulder again. "Sorry, I, uh, don't go, please…"

The plea was so pitiful that Ludwig hesitated, uncomfortable as he felt.

Gilbert laughed weakly. "I just… Sorry, drinking makes me soppy sometimes… Kinda nice, though, isn't it? Just to be held…"

Ludwig felt frozen in place. Gilbert lifted his head and smiled lopsidedly. "I should let you get to bed I guess." But he didn't move his arms. His head was very close to Ludwig's, and Ludwig couldn't look away from his brother's oddly-shaded violet eyes.

Gilbert's lips twitched in a tiny laugh, and he leaned in to press them to his brother's cheek. They were warm and soft and made Ludwig's lungs stop working quite right.

_It's just a goodnight kiss from your big brother, that's all._

But then Gilbert turned his head, and suddenly his mouth was on Ludwig's, warm and wet, lips and tongue moving frantically for a few bewildering seconds.

And then Gilbert was pulling back, just as abruptly as he'd started, looking down and running a hand over his face. "Sorry, sorry, Jesus. I, uh…" He shook his head and laughed a little. "Don't know what that was for, um, you should… you should get to bed…"

Ludwig sat staring at his brother, still glued to his seat in shock. His extremities felt like they were buzzing, and there was a strange pressure on his chest.

Gilbert glanced up at him, and his bright eyes looked unsure.

Ludwig nodded numbly. He stood, and somehow managed to stumble to his room and his bed.

He had a hard time sleeping that night, remembering the wet, hot press of another mouth against his. His brother's mouth.

His stomach churned, and he was sure it wasn't just the beer.

…

Gilbert was still sleeping when he rose the next day. He was gone again when Ludwig returned from his errands, and he didn't hear him come in the door until he was once again lying sleepless in his bed.

Early the next morning Ludwig heard movement in the living room and was surprised to meet Gilbert, packed bag slung over a shoulder, in the hallway.

"You're leaving?" he asked dumbly.

Gilbert nodded, not quite meeting his brother's eyes. "Yeah, got in touch with Antonio, I'll be staying at his place just till the end of the month."

"Oh."

"So, uh, thanks."

"Right. Um, breakfast?"

"No, no, I'm good thanks. Not hungry."

"Ok."

"So. See you around, little brother." He clapped Ludwig once on the shoulder and strode past towards the door.

Ludwig stood there and watched him go. Only after his brother was gone did he realize he hadn't said goodbye.

…

_One Year Later_

"You're late."

"Sorry, _Brüderlein_ , you know how it is—life of a working man!"

"Don't call me that, it sounds childish."

Gilbert laughed and dropped his bag down next to his chair. "Aww, my little Lutzel-Butzel's all grown up now, is he?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes as his brother took a seat across the table from him.

Gilbert looked around at the table-covered terrace. "Nice place. Come here often?"

"It just opened. I liked the restaurant that used to be here, but I don't make it to this neighborhood very often. It's a little out of the way for me."

"Ah. Well. Thanks for making the effort today."

"Shouldn't take much effort to see a brother who lives in the same city."

"Is that aimed at me? C'mon Lutz, not my fault you live all the way in Lichterfelde."

"You're the one that chose Friedrichshain."

"I didn't choose it—Antonio did! Anyway, you're the one with meetings every frickin' day of the week."

"I'm not the one who put this lunch off for four months."

"And I'm not the one that called off Christmas dinner last minute!"

Ludwig sighed. "Let's just order, alright?" He was tired and hot and wanted a cold beer.

"Fine." Gilbert buried his nose in his menu.

Food helped ease the atmosphere between them. Gilbert told his brother about a great new gig he and Antonio had gotten that he was sure would be their big break. He was slightly less enthusiastic when questioned about his consulting job.

"I told you, my boss is nuts! And my coworkers are like those alien-possessed humans from that new Nicole Kidman movie. I'm tellin' you, it's freaky. They don't laugh, they don't even talk—I'm dying in there."

"Why don't you quit? Dedicate yourself full-time to your music?"

"Heh. You make it sound easy. We barely make rent as it is. And Antonio might have to go back to Spain, if he doesn't get the job he's hoping for."

"What about your big break?"

"Well, yeah, that would change things…" he trailed off, unconvincing.

"Gilbert, why don't you try for something in the management side of music, like you talked about last time we met up? You'd be good at it."

Gilbert squinted at him. "You think so?"

Ludwig nodded. "I do."

"Heh, you've never even heard me play. How do you know I have the ear for it?"

"You don't need to be a good player to be a good manager."

"Are you saying I'm not a good player now?"

"Like you said, how could I know?"

Gilbert snorted. "What about you? Are you the mastermind behind all the construction-cranes I've seen popping up like weeds?"

Ludwig's expression darkened. "No, that's just par for the course for Berlin. You didn't see this city in the '90s. Anyways, half the time I'm the one trying to stop the cranes from going up these days. I can't tell you how many ill-conceived projects are getting the green light, just going to the highest bidder—no respect for how development will affect neighborhoods, residents… But my boss is nothing but a lapdog to corporate interests. I can't do anything where I am."

"So, still letting the boss walk all over you?"

Ludwig hunched his shoulders. "I do not let him walk all over me."

"Ha, yeah you do. You don't think he's doing a good job, so you take it on yourself to do his work. It's in your nature. And he takes advantage. You're too stressed, I can tell every time I call."

"Which is never," muttered Ludwig.

Gilbert waved his hand. "Don't change the subject. I still say you should call it quits, start somewhere new."

Ludwig sighed. "What can I say. It's convenient working there."

"Psh. Convenience will be the death of society."

"Don't be melodramatic."

"I'm not being melodramatic, I'm being realistic."

"I think you confuse the two a bit too often." He glanced at his watch. "Shit. I have to go."

"So soon?"

"If you'd come on time we would have had longer." He signaled the waiter and asked to pay.

"Alright, alright. Well, call every once in a while, will you?"

"I will if you will."

…

Ludwig only called Gilbert twice in the next eight months, and he only heard from his brother once, until he got a call from Gilbert in mid-February asking for him to come to his and Antonio's last gig. Antonio would be heading back to Madrid in March; the job had fallen through.

Ludwig arrived late; his boss had kept him over-time, and it had taken over an hour to get from Zehlendorf all the way to Ostkreuz, where Gilbert was playing.

Ludwig felt over-dressed in his work clothes. He removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie a bit, and stayed in the back corner of the club until his brother's set was over. A few girls came up and tried to dance with him, but they gave up when Ludwig stiffly refused to move to the beat.

"Ludwig!" Gilbert shouted when he'd made his way back out to the dance floor, barely audible over the deafening music of the DJ that had taken his place on stage. He swung an arm over his brother's shoulders. "Glad you made it! This is Antonio—Antonio, this is my brother!"

The brunet who had trailed Gilbert through the crowd beamed and shook Ludwig's hand enthusiastically. "Pleased to finally meet you! Gilbert's told me so much!"

Ludwig blushed slightly at that, wondering if it was even true and thinking whatever Gilbert had to say probably couldn't be that good.

Gilbert turned to shout in his brother's ear. "There's an after-party at our flat—you should come along!"

Ludwig wasn't one for parties, but he hadn't seen his brother in quite a while, and he knew Gilbert wanted him there. He'd already come this far anyway.

…

The party was nearly as loud as the club had been. Ludwig stood awkwardly in the corner, drink in hand, occasionally exchanging a few words with the increasingly drunk people who struck up conversation with him.

And because he didn't really have anything else to do, Ludwig drank too.

When he was on his fourth bottle, Antonio dragged him out to the dance floor for a little while, but Ludwig soon made his escape to the kitchen, where he grabbed another cold beer and chugged it down.

"Ludwig, there you are! What are you doing hiding in the kitchen?" Gilbert careened into him, a large drunken grin on his face. "Here, have a beer with me!" he slurred, pressing yet another bottle into his brother's hand.

"No, I just—"

"Drink!"

Gilbert started gulping down his own bottle, so Ludwig sighed and followed suit with slightly less gusto.

"Good! Now we dance!" Gilbert's hands went to his brother's waist and pulled him against him. That hazy smile was still on his face.

"Did you like my music?" Gilbert asked, leaning in.

"Uh—" Ludwig felt a bit too warm with his brother pressed against him like this. "Yes, it was good." His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

Gilbert beamed. "I'm so glad you came," he said, hands moving up Ludwig's chest to his neck and head. "Really, really glad… so nice of you…"

Gilbert's hands were in his hair, and Ludwig could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Everything felt sluggish and tingly at the same time, and Gilbert's head was so close, his lips were so close, close enough to kiss…

 _Strange thought to have about your brother,_ Ludwig's clouded mind managed.

A burst of raucous laughter to the right made Gilbert pull back as Antonio and a few other drunken party-goers stumbled into the kitchen in search of more beer.

They pulled Gilbert along with them back to the room with the loud music, and the next time Ludwig found his brother he was passed out on the couch.

He decided he was sober enough to make his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Die Träumer: The Dreamers  
> Hallo: hello  
> Spargel: asparagus (often white)  
> Königsberger Klopse: meatball dish, a Prussian specialty  
> Prost: cheers  
> Brüderlein: little brother-an old-fashioned expression
> 
> Tempelhof was once Berlin's main airport, but it was closed down and then, several years ago, reopened to the public as a park. The former runways are popular with bikers, rollerbladers, joggers, etc.
> 
> "Pils" is pilsner beer and "Beck's" is a beer brand.
> 
> Lichterfelde, Friedrichshain, Zehlendorf, and Ostkreuz are all areas of Berlin.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two Years Later_

Ludwig rang the doorbell of the grand house, worrying he had gotten the address wrong. With its gate and columned porch, this place hardly seemed like it could be home to his brother.

The door opened and a woman in a white spring dress appeared. Her wavy brown hair nearly reached her waist, and her green eyes sparkled with delight as they took in the figure on the doorstep.

"Ah, you must be Ludwig! Come in, come in!" She ushered him inside.

"And… you're Elizaveta?"

"Oh, please, call me Elsi—it's what all my German friends call me. Ludwig! Well, I'm so pleased to finally meet the legendary brother!"

"Legendary?"

"Only because I've heard of you, but never saw you with my own eyes!" She laughed brightly.

Ludwig blushed slightly. He felt a little guilty that he was only meeting his brother's wife now, close to a year after their wedding. He wondered if Elsi thought that was terribly rude of him. But it wasn't as though he hadn't had good reason; he'd been on an important business trip to the south—meeting with contractors in Munich—at the time of the ceremony, and if he'd missed the trip he wouldn't have been promoted. And the new position kept him busier than ever, so it wasn't easy to make it out to Potsdam.

"Well come along; your brother's out back."

Elizaveta led him down a hallway with tastefully-hung paintings and elaborate moldings. He caught sight of an airy kitchen before being brought into an elegant white sitting room with large sun windows. They stepped through the French doors hung with gauzy curtains and out onto a large patio.

Potted plants ringed the perimeter, brimming with elegant flowers Ludwig couldn't name. They were all in shades of white and palest lavender and blue. At the edge of the patio began the lush lawn, which sloped gently down to a line of weeping willows along an inlet of the large lake, whose shimmering surface was visible through further rings of trees.

The willows were blooming, bursting with snowy flowers that reminded Ludwig of cotton plants he'd seen in some movie about the American South.

A breeze rustled through the languorous branches, and as they shifted Ludwig noticed a figure standing among the trees, almost blending into them with his white shirt and pale blond hair.

Gilbert turned and smiled, then made his way up the long lawn to the patio.

"Ludwig! At last!" He clapped his brother on the arm. "It's good to see you, little brother."

Ludwig smiled back. "You too. This is quite the place you've got."

"Isn't it? I've got Elsi to thank—her father bought it back in the '90s when they moved from Hungary." Gilbert smiled and put an arm around his wife.

"Well, only after Father had such success with the record company. We weren't always rich," added Elsi with a self-conscious smile.

They sat on the patio and Elsi brought out a lunch of fennel salad, white asparagus, bread and cheese. The conversation was polite; Ludwig asked about the company, and Elsi gave an enthusiastic explanation of all the labels they owned. They were mostly classical, Ludwig noted: something his brother hadn't mentioned.

He also noted that Gilbert was mostly silent for that part of the conversation. Ludwig wondered if his brother felt left out of his wife's domain; he hadn't gotten the job he'd wanted with her company, after all, but then ended up marrying into the business anyway.

After lunch Gilbert suggested he give Ludwig a tour of the house and garden. He pointed out the couple of boats docked in the inlet that they owned, and showed Ludwig Elizaveta's rose garden: all pink and white varieties.

The house was even more impressive than Ludwig had originally imagined; the kitchen was newly furnished with stainless steel appliances, the dining room was impressively grand (only for formal use, he was told), and there was a room solely dedicated to Elsi's instrument and sheet-music collection.

"It was her last husband who got her into all this stuff. He's a failed concert pianist, but he got a position high up in the company. That's how they met; Elsi only became chairwoman after they divorced, when her father stepped down. It's weird if you ask me, that she still works with her ex. Sometimes she lets him come over and play the grand. He's sentimentally attached, apparently." Gilbert pointed to the concert-size, antique-looking grand piano in the corner.

Gilbert led Ludwig upstairs to the massive master bedroom and spacious adjoining bathroom, outfitted all in glittering marble, then through three more elegantly furnished bedrooms, each made up for guests.

"Does anyone ever use these?" asked Ludwig, admiring a four-poster covered in fine white linens.

"Rarely," said Gilbert, leaning against a window frame and squinting out into the sunlit yard. He seemed distracted.

"So much space," mused Ludwig quietly.

"Yeah. All wasted on us two."

Ludwig fixed him with a quizzical look. "Don't you like living here?"

Gilbert shifted. "Like it? Sure. I mean, it would be pretty ungrateful of me to say I didn't like it. I never thought I'd live in such luxury."

Ludwig came up next to his brother. "But… it's not really you, is it?"

Gilbert simply met his eyes, then looked away.

The late afternoon sun raking in through the window struck Gilbert's face and hair in a way that seemed to make him shine like the Meissen porcelain statues gracing the tables in the sitting room downstairs. He was so white, and bright, and clean, like everything else in the house. Ludwig had the odd thought that his brother could almost disappear into his surroundings, become one more decoration to grace the halls.

Something about his features, outlined in afternoon gold, was breathtakingly beautiful, and maybe a little melancholy. Ludwig felt a nostalgia for something he couldn't place, like missing something he'd never known.

"Are you happy?" he asked softly.

Gilbert's eyes met his again, guarded. "I'm… not unhappy," he said carefully.

Something clicked in Ludwig's memory, and his heart quickened. He wondered if his brother remembered, too.

"That's not the same thing, remember?"

Gilbert's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Ludwig swallowed down his disappointment and looked away. "Never mind."

He walked over to the bed and sat down. The mattress was luxuriously soft.

"Are you going to start working again, do you think?" He looked back up at his brother, silhouetted in the window.

Gilbert considered him for a moment, then came to sit on the bed next to him. He shrugged. "Yeah, I'd like to, I guess. You know, I still compose, sometimes."

"Yeah? Maybe you can sign a contract with your wife," Ludwig teased lightly.

"Tch. She only does classical music and the occasional avant-garde weird thing."

"Hm. I was surprised to hear that—I thought you'd try for a job with a more… I don't know, 'happening' company? You know, whatever the 'cool kids' are listening to?" he teased.

"Yeah, well, I didn't get the job, so, doesn't matter much, does it?"

"Mm."

Gilbert flopped down on his back on the bed. He gazed up at his brother. "You're disappointed in me, aren't you? Think I'm wasting myself here."

Ludwig didn't answer, simply looked down at his brother, amazed how his hair looked nearly the same shade of white as the duvet, how his eyes almost gleamed red in the sunlight flooding the room.

"Well, you'd be right I guess. Don't know what I'm doing half the time. Guess some things don't change."

"You've changed," said Ludwig before he could stop himself.

"Yeah? Is that a good or a bad thing?" Gilbert held his gaze with a small smile that could have been a grimace, as if he expected he knew the answer.

Ludwig realized he'd slowly been leaning more and more over his brother. He brought a hand down to support himself. Gilbert was still looking straight at him, and there was a strange feeling in his chest he couldn't place.

Before he could think up an answer, there was a knock on the door and in stepped Elsi.

Ludwig straightened up immediately. He wasn't sure why his heart was hammering like a criminal caught red-handed. Gilbert simply rolled over so he could look up at his wife.

"Oh, there you two are! Sorry to disturb your brother time—I was just wondering, Ludwig, if you'd be joining us for dinner? You're welcome to, of course—"

"Ah, no," said Ludwig, rising. "Thank you, but I really think I ought to be getting back. I still have some work to get done."

"All right then, I'll get you your jacket."

"Thank you."

Elizaveta flashed a brilliant white smile and disappeared down the hall.

Ludwig made to follow her, but a grip on his wrist held him back. He turned to find his brother looking at him with pleading eyes.

"I want to see you again soon, Ludwig. Alright? No more putting it off month after month."

Ludwig blinked. "Alright," he said slowly.

Gilbert let him go with a short nod. "Good."

The couple saw Ludwig off at the door. Elsi waved, but Gilbert simply stood there looking after his brother.

…

"So, where is it?"

"In Schöneberg."

"Nice. Do you like it?"

"Yes, I've been saving up ever since I got the promotion. Commute's a lot better too, since the office moved to Kreuzberg."

"Well, when can I come see it?"

Ludwig glanced around at the stacks of boxes crowding his new flat. He shifted his grip on the receiver. "Whenever you like, I guess, but I won't be properly moved in for some time."

"Great, I'm free tomorrow. I'll be there at four, alright?"

"At four? Uh, well—"

"What, you're not working on a Sunday are you?"

"No, no… Four would work."

"Good. See you then, little brother."

"Right, okay. Bye."

…

"So, this is it."

"This is it. I know it's not anything compared to your palace, but, I think I can make it home."

Gilbert paused, letting his eyes wander around the room that Ludwig had designated as dining room and workspace.

"Gotta admit, I'm a little jealous."

"Jealous? Of this place?"

"Yeah. Y'know I still don't feel right in that house, even after practically a year. I can't make it my own. Elsi decides on all the decorating, the flowers, the linens, etc. etc. I kinda doubt I could ever feel at home in a place like that, though."

"Have you… talked to Elsi about it?"

Gilbert laughed. "Elsi? Nah. She's a powerhouse, that woman. She cooks, she cleans, she entertains, and on top of all that she's one tough businesswoman. Poster-girl for the 'women can have it all' team. And everything is perfect the way it is as far as she's concerned." He looked over at Ludwig. "You're the only one I can talk to. You're all I got."

Ludwig looked back at his brother. His throat felt odd, with Gilbert looking at him like that, that wistful expression on his face. "Funny, isn't it?"

"What's funny?"

"Just… that's what family's for, isn't it?" he blurted out. "The last person you turn to, when you haven't got anyone left… that's what you said."

"I said that? Huh. How maudlin of me."

"You said it that night, when you were visiting me… remember?"

"…No."

"You don't?"

Ludwig suddenly realized they'd been moving slowly towards each other. His brother was still looking into his face.

"We were talking, on the couch, and you said… that…"

Suddenly Gilbert placed a finger on Ludwig's lips, silencing him. He was very close now, staring straight into his brother's face. He was breathing heavily enough that Ludwig could see his chest rise and fall. Ludwig realized his breaths were coming heavy, too. They must be hot and moist against Gilbert's finger.

Gilbert seemed to search for something in his face, for just a moment, before his hands were on either side of Ludwig's head, grabbing him and pulling him close, crushing their mouths together.

Ludwig's hands were gripping his brother's sides before he told them what to do, hungrily pulling in this hot soft mouth against his own.

For a few muffled, stifling moments they struggled to push themselves together, until suddenly Gilbert broke away, panting.

He stumbled back a few steps. "Ah, I, I don't, that wasn't—"

But Ludwig was already stepping back in, reaching for his brother again.

Gilbert tried to step away and bumped against Ludwig's desk. "I mean, we can't…"

But he threaded his fingers through Ludwig's hair when his brother leaned over him, and eagerly found his mouth again.

They had sunk to the floor by the next time they pulled apart. Gilbert's eyes looked hazy, confused.

"Do you…"

It was Ludwig's turn to raise a finger to his brother's lips. He didn't want him to talk, shatter the moment. He simply wanted to feel his hard, lithe body against his own, his long musician's fingers pressed into his flesh.

A slight moan escaped Gilbert's mouth as their lips locked again, searching hands making quick work of shirts and belts.

Gilbert's hands on his chest sent a thrill through Ludwig's skin, and he worked his mouth down, over long pale neck, strong shoulders. Gilbert was panting in his arms, gasping and gorgeous, this strange creature that was his brother. How had he ever thought of this unknowable beauty as an occasional nuisance?

Ludwig realized he had never really known his brother. And so he discovered him, with hands and mouth, and left no inch untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potsdam is a city just outside of Berlin with a posh reputation. Schöneberg and Kreuzberg are neighborhoods in Berlin.
> 
> Meissen is a famous Saxon porcelain manufacturer that dates back to the 18th century.


	3. Chapter 3

They lay side by side on the new carpet, naked bodies tangled and shiny with sweat.

Ludwig stared up at the ceiling, and noticed a small crack in the plaster. How had he missed that before? He'd have to get it patched up.

His hands smoothed up and down Gilbert's back and sides.

"How long have you wanted that?" he asked softly.

Gilbert shifted, laying his head on Ludwig's chest so he could look up into his brother's face. "Don't know. Not sure I knew I wanted it until it was happening."

"But, that night when you visited me… and the way you… I don't know, look at me sometimes… Don't you think it meant something? Don't you think this means something?"

Gilbert rolled onto his back with a sigh. "Why does anything have to mean anything? Let's just… enjoy it."

"…Enjoy it?" Ludwig laughed weakly. "You just committed homosexual incestuous adultery, and your plan is to just… enjoy it?"

Gilbert sat up and trailed a finger down Ludwig's chest and leaned in close. "That is exactly what I plan to do," he breathed against his brother's lips, then planted a languid kiss on them.

He broke away after several long moments with a smirk on his face. "Now come on; something tells me you haven't broken in that big new bed of yours."

…

"Is this illegal, what we're doing?" Ludwig mused an hour later as he held his brother in his arms, sprawled over bedcovers in disarray. They'd thrown them off when the heat had become too sweltering; the weather was unusually summer-like.

"Well, incest is illegal in Germany, isn't it? Didn't you hear about that brother-sister couple in the news?" Gilbert didn't sound the least bit concerned.

"Yeah, but, that's because of the children, isn't it? With two guys… do you think they could really send us to jail?"

Gilbert yawned. "They won't send us to jail, because no one will ever find out. We won't talk about it, and it will be just like it never happened." His eyes were resolutely fixed on the opposite wall.

Something clenched in Ludwig's chest. "Do you really want that?" he asked quietly.

Gilbert turned his impassive gaze on him. "Of course I do. And so should you." He slipped free of Ludwig's grasp and sat up. "I should get back."

Ludwig hooked an arm around his brother's waist. "You don't have to."

"Yes I do; Elsi's having guests over for dinner. She's expecting me." Gilbert didn't sound exactly excited by the prospect.

But Ludwig let him get up anyway, and followed him into the other room.

Gilbert set about gathering up his clothes and throwing them back on. "We'll write it off as the heat, or beer, or magic fairy dust or whatever."

Ludwig grasped his brother's elbow. "Gilbert, I want to see you again."

"'Course you will. Come over any time. Elsi loves to cook for guests."

"You know what I mean."

Gilbert finally met his eyes. He gave a half-smile. "Magic fairy dust only works as an excuse once, y'know." He clapped his brother on the shoulder and slipped on his shoes.

"See you around, little brother. And by the way, there's a crack in your ceiling you might want fixed."

And with that he was out the door, leaving Ludwig standing naked in the middle of his cluttered, unfinished dining room.

…

Ludwig tried calling Gilbert several times in the following weeks. He didn't care what his brother said. He needed to see him again.

On the occasions that Gilbert actually picked up, he made excuses not to see his brother. But one time Elizaveta answered, and promptly invited Ludwig over for lunch the following Sunday.

He was a little nervous when he arrived at the house. Maybe Gilbert would be upset with him for using Elsi to arrange a meeting. Would his brother even be able to act normal in front of his wife? Would Ludwig be able to act normal?

He was almost surprised how easy it was to keep a polite smile on his face when Elsi greeted him at the door, however.

"Ah, Ludwig, you're just on time! Roderich's come over too—I'll introduce you!"

Ludwig remembered Gilbert mentioning the name Roderich once—Elsi's previous husband, though his brother usually simply referred to him as "the Ex."

Roderich Edelstein was a man of manners and charm. Ludwig had to admit he looked far more at home lounging in the white wicker chair with a Melange in hand ("After all these years, she still remembers just how I like them," he'd offered with an ingratiating smile) than Gilbert ever could. With a jolt, Ludwig realized the man had once called this place home.

Gilbert, for his part, greeted Ludwig as if he hadn't a care in the world. He even managed to behave himself during lunch, though Ludwig could tell Roderich irked him to no end.

Gilbert didn't speak much, and spared barely a word for his brother.

Several times, Ludwig was certain when he glanced at his brother that his eyes had been on him just a moment before, like they were reaching out for each other in the dark and kept missing by mere centimeters.

It also did not escape Ludwig's notice how Roderich smiled just a little too warmly at Elsi, and how she laughed just a bit too much at his sophisticated witticisms.

It didn't escape Gilbert's notice either.

"So, Ludwig, I hear you're in urban planning?" Roderich inquired politely, primly sipping from his Melange.

Ludwig set his beer down. "Yes, you hear correctly."

"My, for a developing city like Berlin—that must keep you quite busy!"

He gave a terse smile. "Quite busy, yes."

"You know, I heard a rumor that someone has plans to build on part of Tempelhof Park. Are you involved in that?"

"I won't be, if I can help it. There's a referendum coming up, as a matter of fact. Berliners don't trust big business not to ruin their most treasured open space, and I can't blame them." He sighed wearily. "Some politicians have promised affordable housing will be part of the package, which, frankly, the city sorely needs, but the guarantees aren't enough. If it goes the way I and many others fear it might, it would be only the latest example of a part of the city which should belong to the public being taken away and placed in the hands of the privileged few."

"Oh, well, quite right, of course. Though, some of the urban renewal has been quite necessary, wouldn't you agree?"

"In my experience 'urban renewal' is too often nothing more than a cover name for aggressive gentrification."

Roderich blinked in surprise. "But, aren't you in development yourself?"

"That doesn't mean I always agree with what specifically is chosen to be developed, or how. I don't exactly have control over those decisions."

Elsi cleared her throat. Well," she interjected, "I think we can all agree that it's a relief they didn't tear down the East Side Gallery for all those hotels and offices. I heard about the protests on the news."

"Oh yes, it is a piece of cultural heritage after all." Roderich nodded. "And I mean, there's so much more space along the river that could be developed; there should be no need to tear down the Wall."

Ludwig pursed his lips. He hadn't wanted to be drawn into a conversation about work in one of the precious few moments he had away from it. "To be honest, most of the Mediaspree projects are ill-conceived, in my opinion, though I seem to be in the minority among my colleagues, and there is nothing I can do to impress upon them the value of what they are throwing away. The development is already erasing the unique cultural diversity of the area. The local residents are strongly against it; it was put to a vote a few years ago, and the vast majority was for an alternative plan put forward by the borough, but that referendum was not binding, unfortunately. Already structures that violate approved building plans are under construction."

Roderich gave a nervous, self-deprecating laugh. "My, so much to take into account, isn't there? Well, to be honest I can't really say I understand it all myself. My musician's brain isn't cut out for that sort of thing. Numbers, diagrams, maps—" He waved his hand dismissively. "In fact I've been told I have a singularly terrible sense of direction." He gave Elizaveta a knowing smile and she tittered in response.

Gilbert's eye twitched noticeably.

"Ludwig, why don't I show you around the lake?" he suggested suddenly, standing from the table.

Ludwig looked up at his brother in surprise. Gilbert hadn't even finished his beer. That was unlike him.

"Ah, a walk around the lake would be lovely in this weather—" began Roderich, but Elsi cut him off.

"Actually, Roddy, I was hoping you might play that new piece for me, remember, the one you were telling me about?" Elizaveta seemed to realize the invitation was extended to Ludwig and Ludwig only.

He wouldn't pass up an opportunity to speak with his brother alone, so Ludwig drained the rest of his own bottle and stood to follow him.

"You don't like him much, do you?" he ventured when they had left the yard behind and crossed over the inlet on a footbridge. Willows shaded their path; the white flowers, fallen from the branches, lay dirtied underfoot.

"Heh, is it that obvious?"

"Subtlety isn't exactly your strong suit."

"I wouldn't be too sure. Maybe you just don't know me well enough." The shadow of a smile played on his lips.

Ludwig could feel his pulse quicken in his throat.

They walked in silence. Ludwig opened his mouth to speak several times, but his courage always faltered.

Finally, when he couldn't stand it any longer, he took a deep breath and steeled himself to say: "So, are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Oh come on Gilbert, don't play dumb with me."

"No really, what?"

Ludwig just glared at him.

"Well, if you can't say what it is, then I guess we're not going to talk about it."

Ludwig sighed in exasperation. "Are we going to talk about the fact that we slept together?" he hissed through his teeth.

Gilbert shot him a steely glance. "I thought we had an agreement."

"No, Gilbert, there was no agreement. I never said I wouldn't talk about."

"Well I don't see what there is to talk about. We did it; it's done."

"Yes, but—don't walk away from me!"

He tried to turn his brother back around towards him, but Gilbert shook him off.

"Honestly, Ludwig, this is—"

But Ludwig would never learn just what his brother thought this was. Seized with a sudden urgency, he grabbed hold of Gilbert's arm and hauled him off the path into a thicket of trees, shoving him up against a trunk.

Gilbert opened his mouth to complain, but Ludwig swiftly silenced him with a fierce kiss.

Gilbert struggled against his stronger brother, but Ludwig held him fast.

When he finally broke for air, Gilbert glared at him. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

Ludwig swiftly brought their mouths together again to cut off any further insults.

Gilbert attempted to wriggle his wrists out of his brother's grasp, but when he succeeded in freeing them, he didn't try to push him away. Instead he gripped at his shoulder, neck, head, trying desperately to pull him closer.

They fumbled together in a violent endeavor to hold, to meld. When they finally drew apart they were gasping.

Ludwig kept his brother pinned to the tree, caged in by his arms. He leaned his forehead against Gilbert's and stood there, just breathing, eyes closed.

Gilbert shifted, and Ludwig backed away to look at him.

"You," breathed Gilbert, a wry smile twisting his lips.

"What?" asked Ludwig, heat rising in his cheeks.

"Nothing." Gilbert was positively grinning now. His eyes flashed. "Catch me if you can."

And with that he pushed himself off of the trunk and darted through the underbrush.

It took Ludwig a moment to process the challenge before he was lunging after him.

Gilbert broke through the trees back onto the flat path, laughing as he went. "C'mon _Brüderchen_ , getting too old to play chase?" he cackled.

But Ludwig was faster than Gilbert, and at a bend in the path he managed to grab him about the waist. Gilbert tried to keep running, tripping them up so they both tumbled down the grassy bank towards the water.

Ludwig rolled himself over his smirking brother. He glanced around to make sure their position was sheltered by undergrowth and tall reeds, and kissed him again.

Gilbert kissed back enthusiastically for a few seconds, slipping his hands up Ludwig's shirt. Ludwig melted into the touch, when suddenly those fingers started mercilessly poking and tickling at his sides. He shot up with an undignified squawk, twisting away from Gilbert's hands as his brother shook with laughter.

Gilbert stood and brushed himself off as the other glared at him. He leaned down and picked up a flat smooth pebble, rubbing it with his thumb before skipping it, one, two, three-four, over the surface of the water.

"Reminds me of the good old days," sighed Gilbert contentedly. "Remember that time when Mama and Papa took us to Wannsee, the first year after the divorce? That was a great day. We wrestled in the water and I put sand in your hair." He chuckled and skipped another stone.

Ludwig raised his eyebrows. "I remember that as a singularly unpleasant experience. Sand in the eyes is rather painful. And you kept pushing me underwater for so long that _Mutti_ finally had to intervene."

Gilbert wrinkled his nose. "Oh yeah. Eh, sorry 'bout that. Just doing my brotherly duties, you know." Another stone, three skips then down into the lake.

Ludwig hummed skeptically.

Gilbert turned to him. "But we had a good time as kids, didn't we? Even if we were never really close."

"I mostly remember you teasing me mercilessly."

"Exactly!" Gilbert grinned and winked at him, and Ludwig had to smile in spite of himself.

They continued their way around the lake, Gilbert reminiscing about childhood pranks and Ludwig occasionally correcting his memory. Ludwig felt as though something had fallen into place, something that had been missing, perhaps without him ever realizing it. He hadn't seen Gilbert this happy in a very long time.

They wandered through the gardens of old, stately palaces that looked out over the water, and explored among the long-abandoned buildings still standing on their grounds. Gilbert imitated the poses of statues they came across with a ridiculously pretentious expression on his face that made Ludwig laugh every time. He had the feeling his brother had picked the look up from watching Roderich sip his coffee.

They came to an elaborately decorated pagoda on the edge of the lake. Gilbert bounded up the steps and leaned on the railing, gazing across the water.

Ludwig came up beside him. "Can you see your house from here?"

"No. It's better that way. I can pretend I'm lord and master of one of those old palaces instead, and no one lives there but me."

"Wouldn't that get lonely?"

"You kidding me? Being alone's the best. I walk around here on my own sometimes, imagining how it looked in the time of Frederick the Great or something, and it's the best part of my day." He considered his brother for a moment. "You'd be allowed to visit me, though, if you wanted."

"Oh, thank you, that's very gracious of your Majesty."

Gilbert snorted, but a smile twisted his features.

Ludwig smiled back.

…

When they got back to the house Gilbert pulled Ludwig to the willows at the edge of the lawn. Behind the screen of branches it was impossible to be seen from the house.

His warm mouth found Ludwig's quickly.

"I need to see you again," murmured Ludwig against his brother's lips.

Just then Elsi's voice came from the patio. "Gilbert? Ludwig?"

Gilbert pulled away and ducked out through the branches. "Here!"

Ludwig followed his brother.

"There you are! I thought I saw you coming back. Listen, I got a call and have to go into the office for a bit. Roderich's left, he gives his excuses for not waiting for you. I'll be back this evening, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to make dinner. Could you order us something? And Ludwig, you're free to stay if you'd like."

"Ah, thank you, I'll have to see."

"Of course." She turned to Gilbert. "See you later, _Hasi_!"

" _Tschüss, meine Süße_."

Ludwig turned to Gilbert when Elsi had gone. "She calls you _Hasi_?" he asked, holding back a laugh.

"Yeah, shut up," grumbled Gilbert.

…

They were in the guest bedroom with the white linens again, standing face to face, inches apart.

Ludwig very carefully unbuttoned his brother's shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, trailing his hands over his pale skin.

Gilbert lifted Ludwig's t-shirt over his head and off his arms. His hands wandered from chest, to stomach, to sides, and back up, in careful circles like he was trying to create a mental map of his brother's torso.

They removed their pants as carefully as their shirts and stood naked, embracing each other.

Ludwig appreciated his brother's beauty more this time: the curve of his back, the slight indent of his waist, the flat plane of his chest and his long, graceful neck. His slender, languid limbs draped over the bed. The clouding of his violet eyes as they gave themselves over to pleasure, the music of his voice as he panted his brother's name a thousand times into the soft white pillows.

_Ludwig, Ludwig, Ludwig…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brüderchen: little brother or kid brother, more casual and common (I'm told) than "Brüderlein"  
> Mutti: Mom  
> Hasi: bunny, a petname for a lover  
> Tschüss, meine Süße: bye, my sweetie
> 
> Melange is a Viennese coffee specialty.
> 
> The East Side Gallery is the longest intact stretch of the Berlin Wall and is covered with murals by artists from all over the world.
> 
> Mediaspree is the name given to a large number of projects in the area along the river Spree in the middle of Berlin where the Wall used to be. The fall of the Wall left a large amount of open space which was bought up by investors and has been mostly turned into/designated for high-end business enterprises.
> 
> Wansee is a lake in Berlin popular for recreation such as boating and swimming with a sandy beach.


	4. Chapter 4

Ludwig's phone rang. It was at his ear in an instant.

"Can you make it?"

"Yeah, told her I'm going to Kiel for the weekend to visit some old friends."

"Why couldn't you just tell her you're coming here? Spending a weekend with your brother isn't suspicious."

"Don't want her popping in to bring us lunch or something. It's the kind of thing she would do."

There was a shuffling on the other end of the line, and muffled voices. After a moment Gilbert spoke again, his voice softer.

"I hate whispering on the phone. Makes me feel like I should feel guilty."

"Do you?"

"…No. It's not… we're not hurting anyone."

"…Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then."

…

Ludwig was buzzing with anticipation. He couldn't sit, he couldn't stand, he couldn't do anything productive, and he couldn't stay still. He ended up wandering from kitchen, to dining room, to living room, to dining room, to bathroom, to bedroom, back to dining room again just in case the doorbell rang. He wanted to be right by the door when Gilbert arrived, so he wouldn't waste any time letting him in.

Half an hour, back and forth, back and forth. And a half hour more.

After an hour and a quarter, Ludwig had finally set himself down in the dining room chair closest to the entryway, impatiently tapping his feet on the floor, when at last the sound he'd been waiting for came.

He shot up and pressed the button to let Gilbert in downstairs, and flung open his own door. Finally, Gilbert made his way to the top of the stairs and bustled in with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You're late."

"I know, Elsi wouldn't let me leave the house without triple-checking I'd packed enough underwear and toothpaste. Honestly, I swear she thinks she's my mother sometimes."

"That would make a horribly incestuous love-triangle."

Ludwig shut the door behind his brother and hovered over him as he slipped off his shoes and set his bag down. He wished he would look at him; he wanted to kiss him right now, wanted to feel him this very moment. The wait had been torture.

"Ugh, mom-sex thoughts. Not cool, Lutz. Remember, I knew her better than you—"

Gilbert turned to face his brother and was immediately met with an open-mouthed kiss, cutting off his words and thoughts.

The temperature of the air around them rose steadily as Ludwig pushed his brother further back into the room. They bumped into the table and Ludwig hoisted Gilbert up to sit on it, positioning himself between his legs as they gripped each other closer, harder.

Ludwig fumbled desperately with Gilbert's shirt before managing to pull it off. He buried his face in Gilbert's neck, sucking and biting, soaking up his brother's perfectly needy sounds as his nails scrabbled at Ludwig's broad back.

"You know," panted Gilbert, "as sexy as it would be for you to fuck me right here, don't you—mmnn, think that, uh—nngh—the bed might be, ah, a bit more comfy?"

Ludwig lifted him wordlessly as Gilbert's legs wrapped around his waist and carried him to the bedroom, lips never leaving his brother's skin, even when he deposited him on the mattress.

Gilbert reveled in the strong arms around him, in the soft lips sending shivers down his spine, in the sheer thrill that their unions had become for him. His kid brother, all grown up, worshiping his body with hands and mouth. Ludwig, such a strong body to hold, to press against, bringing him to a pleasure more unbearable and pure than winter air against his bare teeth, setting every nerve on edge.

Ludwig took him, impatient and urgent, as though he were afraid Gilbert would disappear before they could reach the climax. The heat, the rough need of it, left Gilbert feeling raw in the painful, satisfying way of an itch scratched till it bleeds, and tears streamed down his face in pure bliss.

…

The warmth of a mouth on his stomach, chest, shoulder, soothed Gilbert as he gazed out the open window. The sunlight hitting the foot of the bed was almost too bright to look at, and the piece of sky visible through the glass was so blue it looked like a painted backdrop.

The nipping of teeth pulled him reluctantly from his contented daze.

He looked down at his brother. His face was passive as he laid his head on Gilbert's chest, but his eyes glowed with an inner smile.

_God, they're as blue as the sky. Maybe bluer._

"What are you thinking about?"

Gilbert could feel his brother's deep voice rumble through his skin.

He lost himself gazing into those too-blue eyes. Finally he whispered, "How perfect you are."

The glow in those eyes grew brighter.

A smile played at Gilbert's lips. "Are you sure we're related?"

A chuckle reverberated through Ludwig's chest. "We must be—you got the perfection gene too."

Gilbert sighed, wanting to keep this warmth inside him as long as possible. "Pity. If we weren't, we could stay together, just like this, forever." He smiled at the thought of never leaving this bed, of his brother holding and loving him so very thoroughly, always.

Ludwig leaned in closer and nuzzled at his jaw. "We could still stay together forever, if you want," he whispered.

Gilbert leaned away to look at his brother with a slight frown. "Don't be ridiculous, Ludwig. Just relax and enjoy it." He settled himself down further against his brother's side.

Ludwig said nothing. Eventually he wrapped his arms around Gilbert's waist, holding him just a little too tight to be relaxed.

…

The day passed, and the next, in a whirl of heat and skin and sheets. They lost track of time. They ate when they were hungry, slept when they were tired, and made love in between, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter, against the wall, in the shower.

On the third day, as the sun streamed in through the window, Gilbert suggested they go for a walk.

They went to a nearby park, staying on the paths beneath the trees to escape the midday heat.

Ludwig might have preferred to stay at home, encased in the bubble of his and his brother's newfound world.

Gilbert questioning him about work forced him to come reluctantly back to reality.

"It's not—what I expected," he admitted with a sigh. "I was working to get the new position for so long, but now that I'm there—I don't know what I'm working for any more. I guess—I guess I thought it would give me more influence, allow me to actually accomplish something, shape the projects we're working on… I used to be so passionate about it, you know, back when I started. Planning the city of the future. There was still so much potential in Berlin—I felt like I could do anything, make a real difference. I had big ideas. But now… I'm not excited by it anymore. Just demoralized. I've seen the way it goes. I've become nothing but a pencil-pusher, you know?" He scuffed his toe at a pebble in frustration. "A sellout."

"Don't say that. You still care."

"Caring isn't enough, sometimes."

"Well, why don't you quit? Find somewhere else, where you're needed?"

He sighed. "Where would that be? I need the stability if I'm going to pay off my apartment. I don't know." He sighed again. "I feel stuck."

"Hm. You and me both."

Ludwig didn't ask. He knew what his brother meant.

They walked on in silence, save the drone of construction work from across the street.

_I feel stuck._

_Why don't you quit._

_I feel stuck._

_Somewhere you're needed._

The words echoed round Ludwig's head.

"You know… I was serious," he ventured. "About what I said before."

"About what?"

"About… us staying together." His voice was soft. He felt self-conscious, even if it was only the occasional jogger, biker, or yoga mom with a stroller passing them by.

Gilbert made an exasperated sound. "Ludwig—"

"No, just listen to me!" he whispered more urgently. "Why not? I'm not happy where I am, you're clearly not happy, your marriage is falling apart—"

"Who said it's falling apart?" Gilbert objected.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Right, because you'd absolutely be sleeping with me if you were happy with your wife."

"Not being happy is not the same as everything falling apart."

Ludwig huffed. "But why should we settle for unhappiness? We could go away together, live together, no one would have to know—"

"I thought you just said you didn't want to leave your job because you have to pay off the apartment!"

"Screw the apartment! Gilbert, this could be the solution, to both our problems—"

"I'm not listening to this bull crap. Just, stop spoiling things."

"Spoiling? How am I spoiling anything? I'm just saying—I don't get it, don't you like being with me?"

"Of course I—" Gilbert shot him a look, then sighed. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. But Ludwig, that doesn't mean—mm. I just… I still love you as my little brother."

Ludwig wanted to say something. He wanted to say a million things, but nothing seemed able to leave his mouth. He finally settled on an annoyed growl.

"So what, are you going to just toss me aside when you're finished with your thrilling illicit affair?" It came out a little more spitefully than he'd thought it would.

Gilbert gave him a hard look. "No, because you're my brother. I wouldn't do that to you."

Ludwig looked away. After a moment he said, "Let's go back. I'm hungry," even though he wasn't.

"Alright," Gilbert said, a bit too lightly.

The walk back was awkward. Ludwig was brooding, and Gilbert was playing innocent, pointing out funny graffiti or hipsters with weird hair as they walked, as if trying to snap his brother out of it. Ludwig wasn't having any of it.

When they finally got to Ludwig's Gilbert claimed he wanted currywurst and French fries rather than the salad makings in the fridge, so he went out in search of some to bring back. Ludwig settled down at the table with a beer in hand to wait.

…

On that day at exactly 14:43, one Roderich Edelstien was to be found standing outside the entrance to the S-Bahn stop Julius-Leber Brücke in the middle of Schöneberg, dressed meticulously in an eggplant-colored suit. He was looking back and forth between the iPhone in his hand and his surroundings, squinting uncertainly up at the street signs.

He seemed to have made up his mind when he stowed the phone in his pocket and turned towards his chosen street, but then he stopped short. Something had caught the corner of his eye.

A head of untidy platinum hair, a pale face, a familiar gait.

He twisted his head round for a better look. There was only one person that could be—but he couldn't get a good glimpse of his face, and the man had already disappeared behind a group of Turkish women with their shopping bags.

Roderich frowned, staring the way the man had gone. But after a moment he seemed to shake off the uncanny sighting and put it from his mind, and started off in the opposite direction.

…

The front door buzzer sounded in Ludwig's apartment. He pressed the button to unlock it, surprised Gilbert had been so quick.

He opened his door, listening to the footsteps slowly make their way up the stairs. It didn't quite register that his brother usually liked to speed up steps two at a time.

But the head that appeared over the railing did not belong to his brother.

" _Herr_ Edelstein!" he exclaimed in surprise, heart kicking up to twice its normal rate, cold sweat breaking over his neck. "How—why—" Finally he remembered his manners. "What a surprise! What brings you here?"

Roderich smiled as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "Ah, _Herr_ Beilschmidt, I hope you don't mind me dropping in like this—I knew I would be in the area and thought I might bring you those CDs I promised!"

Ludwig blinked. CDs? _What CDs?_ And then he remembered, an offhand comment made at the luncheon they'd shared, about a pianist Ludwig admired—or rather had said he admired, since she was the only classical pianist he knew—and Roderich offering to make him some copies of unreleased and rare recordings of her, as Roderich had had the pleasure of meeting the famous musician in person and had gotten his hands on the recordings somehow. Ludwig had assumed it was an empty promise, but perhaps Roderich felt obliged to follow through as a gesture of goodwill after the slightly awkward turn their lunch conversation had taken.

"Uh—oh! Yes, um, thank you so much, that's very considerate."

"Oh, not at all. It's always a delight to share such things with a fellow enthusiast." Roderich pulled a few CD cases with hand-made labels from his bag and handed them over.

Ludwig stood dumbly, CDs in hand. He suddenly realized Roderich probably expected to be invited in.

"Uh… I would invite you in for coffee, only, I was, um…" _Only Gilbert could be back any moment._ "I was about to run out. Glad you caught me though." Suddenly something struck Ludwig as quite odd. "Uh, how did you say you got this address again?"

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of looking you up to see how I could best get the recordings to you."

"Oh, right. Well, very kind of you, I appreciate it."

"Any time. Well, I suppose I should let you go then."

"Yes. Ah, I'm sorry, I wish we had some time to discuss, ah—" He gestured vaguely with the CDs. He'd suddenly forgotten the pianist's name.

"Oh yes, well, perhaps another time, at Els—your brother's house or some such."

The reference to Gilbert made Ludwig's cheeks heat even more. But finally, Roderich was turning to go.

_Yes, go, go, go… Just, leave, and Gilbert please don't be back, don't come back yet…_

Ludwig cringed when Roderich turned at the top of the stairs. "Ah, Ludwig, by the way… Have you seen Gilbert recently?"

Ludwig was sure his heart stopped beating for a second. "Gilbert?" he managed to get out of his dry throat. "Um, no, isn't he in, uh, Kiel?"

"Oh, right, yes, yes. Of course." Roderich sounded distracted.

"…Why?"

"Ah, no matter. When is he supposed to be back?"

"Um… you'd probably do better to ask Elizaveta…"

"Yes, of course. Well. Till next time, then!"

"Yes, thank you again!"

And with that Roderich was finally gone down the stairs.

Ludwig closed the door and slumped down at the table, exhausted, and took a long draught of his beer.

…

The man in the eggplant suit stepped out of the front door of the apartment building and crossed the street, thinking how much he hated public transportation and wishing he'd brought his car.

These thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of another figure loping up the sidewalk opposite, two plates of currywurst and fries balanced in his hands.

White-blond hair, pale skin, carefree strides. There was no mistaking him.

Roderich Edelstein watched, dumbstruck, as his ex-wife's husband arrived at Ludwig's apartment door, pressed the buzzer for the flat he himself had been in only minutes before, and disappeared inside the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currywurst is a popular fast food in Berlin–basically like a sausage/hot dog with curry ketchup on it.
> 
> The S-Bahn and U-Bahn are the Berlin subway/rail system, with the U-Bahn tending to be more underground and the S-Bahn above ground while also usually covering more distance between stops.
> 
> Herr: Mr.


	5. Chapter 5

"He WHAT?" Gilbert burst out, dangerously close to spilling the currywurst he held in either hand off their paper trays.

"He dropped by… to give me these CDs. I forgot we even talked about it before."

"Jesus, how long ago?"

"Just a couple minutes."

"Fucking miracle we didn't run into each other then. Christ. Fuckin' Roderich. And here I was worried about Elsi. I shoulda known though, that man's a weasel," muttered Gilbert as he joined Ludwig at the table, placing one tray in front of his brother.

"I didn't ask for currywurst, Gilbert. And it's not like Roderich meant to spy on us—he was just doing me a favor. Even though it is odd he looked up my address and didn't call beforehand."

"Weasel, I'm tellin' you. And eat it—currywurst's good for you," said Gilbert as he popped a piece of the sausage into his mouth and began chewing noisily.

Ludwig raised his eyebrows.

"What? It's got protein. Big guy like you must need protein, not just sissy salads." He took another bite and closed his eyes with an expression of enjoyment that made Ludwig blush. "God, I miss this stuff. Elsi never lets us go for fast food."

Ludwig sighed and took a bite. He much preferred Döner to currywurst, but he supposed it wasn't that bad. And Gilbert had gone to the trouble of bringing it back for him. Perhaps it was a peace offering.

He'd accept it. For now.

…

Ludwig was happily surprised when he reached for his buzzing cellphone and saw who was calling. He hadn't spoken with Gilbert since he'd gone home the day before, and hadn't expected to hear from him so soon.

As soon as Ludwig brought the phone to his ear, however, the contentment dissipated.

"Have you talked to Elsi?" Gilbert blurted out before Ludwig could get in a greeting.

"Your wife? What? No. Why?"

"Oh thank God."

"Gilbert, what's going on?"

"He saw me."

"What are you talking about? Who saw you?"

"The little priss—he saw me!"

Horror mixed with understanding as Gilbert's meaning dawned on him.

"You mean… when you were here. When Roderich dropped by."

"Yes! And he told Elsi, of course." Gilbert's voice stung with spite. "She interrogated me about it and I had to make up something on the spot. Wouldn't put it past her to call you to correlate my story, though, so I wanted to warn you as soon as possible."

"Jesus. What did you say?"

"Well, I guessed you wouldn't have let on to Roderich that I was around, right? So I figured I had to pretend I just decided to show up on your doorstep, currywurst in hand. I told Elsi I came back from Kiel a day early and decided to drop by to surprise you. And… that I left my bags at an old friend's place."

"Wait, what?"

"I… left my bags at a friend's place? A friend from uni?"

"…From university? Let me get this straight—she asked why you didn't have your bags with you if you'd just come from Kiel, and you told her you left them at the flat of some random friend from—eight years ago?"

"I was under pressure, okay? It was the best I could come up with! I told her it was someone who used to live in Kiel but also moved to Berlin, so I looked him up, et cetera."

"You could have just said you left them in a locker at the train station."

"Yeah, you think that didn't occur to me about point two seconds after that bullshit came flying out of my mouth? Not helpful, thank you."

Ludwig sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Okay, too late now. So what did she say?"

"Well, she asked why I didn't tell her I was coming back early, so I just said I didn't think it was important… Oh, and I decided to stay the night with you because my fictional uni-friend didn't have the space at his flat. So, you got it? I showed up at your place—surprise!—went back at some point for my stuff at my friend's, maybe chilled with him a bit more, then came back in the evening to your place."

"Mm-hm. And you didn't just go home because…"

"Because I wanted to hang with my little brother, of course."

"Right. And you're telling me Elizaveta wasn't at all suspicious about any of this?"

"Well, uh, no, I didn't say that. She's… I think she's dubious, but it's not like she has any proof. She probably thinks I'm covering up an affair or something."

"…Which is exactly what you're doing."

"Tch, I mean with another woman. Who's not related to me."

"Which would be different how, again?"

Gilbert gave a long-suffering sigh. "Ludwig."

"Forget it. So, what now? Maybe we should find a hotel on the other side of town for next time," he said half-jokingly. "Or go on a vacation together." That was less joking.

The other end of the line was silent.

"Right? Gilbert?"

"Ludwig—how—my wife, the woman I am married to, nearly just found out that I'm sleeping with you. My brother. And you're talking about hotel rooms and vacations?"

"What—Gilbert, she didn't find out though! We just have to be more careful next time, that's all. Which is why I'm suggesting these things. I mean, we should think about it—"

"Yeah, well maybe I don't want to think about it just now."

"Gilbert, you're being unreasonable. It's not like she's going to expect us two of foul play. People don't go around thinking that maybe people are really sleeping with their siblings. It's the last thing she would expect."

"Well not if we keep this up, the way things are going—"

"The way things are—? You haven't even given things a chance to get going! We've hardly done anything!"

"Hardly—okay, I can't talk about this now, I have to go."

"At least tell me when I can see you again."

"I said I have to go, Ludwig."

"Gilbert, we should make a time to talk—"

The other end of the line went dead.

…

He was running late for work: something that hadn't happened in a very, very long time.

Ludwig's alarm had gone off that morning, and instead of getting promptly out of bed and into the shower like on any other day, he'd simply lain there, staring at the glowing digital face of his clock and watching in fascination as the minutes slowly ticked by, one after the other, after the other.

He'd taken his time in the shower, feeling the hot water dissolve the morning stiffness under his skin without a thought for the water bill. He watched the clock again as he sipped coffee at his kitchen table, till the minute hand had long passed the mark at which he was usually out the door.

It didn't feel real. There was nothing forcing him to move, to get on with his usual business: nothing preventing him from whiling the day away as he pleased. He was in a glass bubble: an observer, untouchable and removed from the current of time. He floated in his bubble to the S-Bahn, where he watched the preoccupied morning commuters through the film that separated him from external reality, entirely unconcerned by his own tardiness. What was tardiness or punctuality anyway? They were relative, ultimately arbitrary concepts.

When he got out at his stop, his feet turned east, rather than south towards his office, and he didn't question it. He found himself wandering towards the river, to the Oberbaumbrücke, until he stood at the halfway point of the bridge and commanded a view of both riverbanks.

He looked south: towards the distant Treptowers and the green space between that would soon give way to more offices; towards the Molecule Man, which to Ludwig had always resembled grappling boxers locked by steel in eternal struggle. He looked north: towards the O2 World squatting like a massive blue toad burrowed into the concrete; towards the Wall that was once the world's most heavily guarded border. He could see people walking dogs, riding bikes, pushing strollers along the bank beneath the East Side Gallery. They looked like so many tiny beetles skirting the edge of the gray water, reflecting an overcast sky.

His memories of the Wall, of the day the border first opened, were dim. Far better could he remember a time when the cranes grew thick as grass in the old no-man's land, hastening to efface the ragged scar that had rent the city through its very heart. He supposed the changes had happened gradually enough, in the eyes of a child for whom one year was nearly one tenth of a lifetime. And yet, at thirty-two, standing between the banks of the Spree, he couldn't be certain what he was looking at anymore, it was so new and foreign.

For one quiet, precious moment in his glass oasis, he could hold everything still. He could stop time: freeze the joggers and the bikers and the stroller-pushers, the boats and the gently lapping waters, the cars and pedestrians, the clouds rolling low overhead—just keep them exactly as they were, so he could really see them for once, grasp them, before they had the chance to disappear and be replaced; but only for a moment. He couldn't hold them against the workings of the invisible gears pushing them forwards, forwards; he had to release them once more into the inexorable flow.

He wished, in his little bubble, that he could roll back time, un-build the buildings like sets of Legos, grow himself small again so that a year was an eon and an hour could contain multitudes. Back to a day at Wannsee with sand in his hair and impotent anger in his little fists beating on his brother's back, suspended in a watery world of gray-green and muffled sound. Back to a time when all that was now stretched out before him was empty save an endless wall and he still had parents who slept in the same bed and a brother who tackled him on the couch and mercilessly tickled his armpits. When he'd been one puzzle piece out of four that had all fit so obviously together he hadn't noticed the deepening seams between them until they were already pulled apart.

Something cool pricked his cheek. He looked up; it had started to rain. And just like that the glass shattered. He was rudely pulled back to the physical world, protective encasement vanished, swept away by the press of sound and motion, no anchor, no harbor.

He was an hour and fifty minutes late and drenched to the bone by the time he arrived at his office. Several coworkers peered out of doorways and stopped in their tracks to stare.

A man of diminutive stature rounded a corner and caught sight of him.

"Beilschmidt!" It was his boss, Herr Weidemann. He strode down the hall, brandishing a folder. "Man, where have you been? I needed you to sign off on these reports an hour ago! I've got a conference call in ten and—good God, what happened to you?"

Herr Weidemann stopped in his tracks, finally getting a good look at Ludwig dripping on the carpet.

"There better be a good story here. Never in my—"

"There isn't," said Ludwig blankly.

"Excuse me?"

"There isn't. A good story. I decided to take a walk, that's all."

The other man blinked up at him. "A walk?" he repeated deliberately. "You're two hours late for work because you decided to take a walk. In the pouring rain."

"That's right."

Herr Weidemann narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are you feeling quite alright, Beilschmidt?"

"Fine, thank you. Never seen things more clearly, in fact."

The man nodded slowly. "Mm-hm. Then I'm sure you can clearly see how close you are to being fired."

"Oh, that's alright, I quit."

Herr Weidemann's mouth fell open. After a moment he pulled himself together and glared. "I don't have time for games, Beilschmidt. Don't test my patience any further. Now get in your office and—"

"I'm not sure you heard me right, Herr Weidemann," said Ludwig, completely calm and firm. "I quit. I'm resigning. I'm done. You'll have to find someone else to do your paperwork for you, not to mention put up with your incompetency and cater to your overinflated ego. I would wish you success and happiness with the business, except I can't say I care much for the future of this firm and its indiscreet undertakings, nor for your own personal prosperity."

The entire office was looking on now in shocked silence. Herr Weidemann was red as a beet and seemed incapable of speech, his mouth working like a fish's.

Ludwig gave him a polite smile. "That's all I came here to say."

With that, he turned and headed for the exit.

A stuttering "You're fired, Beilschmidt!" was spit at his back just before the door closed behind him.

…

His hands and face tingled numbly as he got off the U-Bahn at a random stop. His skin was buzzing and he couldn't slow his heart. He hadn't felt like this since the one time as a teenager he'd accepted drugs from a stranger in a club bathroom.

He needed to talk to Gilbert. He needed to tell him what had happened. He had done it. Quit his job. Now was his chance for a fresh start. Their chance. This was what they needed to get unstuck.

They would probably have to leave Germany. Maybe they could go to London. London was nice. Prohibitively expensive, but maybe Gilbert would have some of Elsi's money if he divorced her properly. Ludwig supposed that would be the correct thing to do.

Maybe they ought to give America a try. Ludwig had never been. He had always wanted to see New York. An English-speaking country wouldn't be too difficult to adjust to, at least for him; he knew Gilbert wasn't quite as comfortable with the language. They could talk about it.

Or maybe remoter would be better. Maybe Mexico. Or Brazil. Surely no one would ever think to look for them there. Who would even care to try?

He glanced around at the crowd of faces descending the steps into the U-Bahn. He had the odd urge to share his thoughts out loud with them; to make them stop and listen, tell them that he was having an affair with his brother and was thinking about ways they could leave the country to start a new life together in incestuous bliss. He wanted to tell that woman who looked like Angela Merkel's ugly sister just how much he loved the feel of his brother's skin, how good it felt to be inside of him. He wanted to tell that skinny hipster how beautiful his brother's voice sounded when he was crying out his name in ecstasy. He wanted to describe to that gaggle of British tourists every position they'd ever had sex in. That group of businessmen—he could tell them just how much he wanted to touch his brother in this very instant, how he burned to feel his lips again. Ludwig felt there would be nothing more satisfying in that moment than dashing the illusion of their bourgeois comfort and complacency.

He reached the top of the steps without giving in to the impulse, however. He squinted into the sunlight—the rain had stopped and the clouds cleared—and realized he'd arrived at the Brandenburger Tor.

He wandered out onto Pariser Platz as he fished his phone from his pocket. His fingers trembled slightly as he selected his brother from his contacts.

Gilbert hadn't responded to any of his previous attempts to contact him over the past week, so he was surprised when the call was accepted after one ring.

"Hi, Lutz."

For a moment Ludwig's voice caught in his throat.

"…Ludwig?"

"Ah, Gilbert, I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, I actually… I wanted to talk to you too."

His heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

"Yeah. Been meaning to call. To arrange something. You know, in person. Better than talking over the phone."

Ludwig couldn't decipher his brother's tone.

"Yes, I agree. I… have some news to share."

"Yeah, me too. So, um, I'll text you? Can you do lunch this week?"

"Yes, I'm free any time."

"Really? Any time? Well, that's… good, then. Okay, see you soon."

"Alright."

"Alright."

Gilbert hung up first. Ludwig put his phone away, still tingly and light-headed.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself without work to return to. He wasn't used to free time out in the city. So he settled himself on a bench in front of a Starbucks, and watched the people come and go under the watchful eyes of Victoria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Döner is an even more popular fast food than currywurst, basically like kebab in a pita or something. I don't know, I'm vegetarian so I've never had it. :P
> 
> The Oberbaumbrücke is a bridge that crosses the river Spree between Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain, in the area of Mediaspree. The Treptowers are high-rise (the highest in Berlin) office buildings along the Spree. The Molecule Man is a giant metal sculpture on the river. O2 World, renamed this summer to the Mercedes-Benz Arena, is a large indoor arena.
> 
> The Brandenburger Tor is the Brandenburg Gate, probably Berlin's most famous landmark. Victoria is the sculpture of the goddess Victory who stands atop the gate in her horse-drawn chariot.


	6. Chapter 6

"This is a nice place. Michelin-starred. Your tastes have changed," commented Ludwig as Gilbert took a seat across from him.

"I thought you'd like it."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "You chose it for me?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Why not? Figured I'd treat you. Lunch is on me, by the way."

Ludwig was about to complain that he got his own paycheck but bit his tongue when he remembered that wasn't true anymore; and by the looks of the white tablecloths, sleek chandeliers, selection of abstract art on the walls, and obviously well-heeled patrons, even the lunch menu was bound to be expensive.

"Well. Thank you."

"No problem. So… no admonishment for my tardiness?"

"What?"

"Come on, you always comment on it. Don't tell me you didn't notice I'm fifteen minutes late."

"Eighteen, actually."

"…Oh. That's not unnerving at all," muttered Gilbert.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"How uncharacteristically forgiving of you."

"I'm in a generous mood." Ever since quitting his job two days before everything had seemed in flux, unrushed, unimportant—save for seeing Gilbert, of course. But it didn't matter that he had arrived late; all that mattered was that he was here now. It soothed Ludwig, filled the empty ache he'd been carrying around in his chest.

"Are you?" said Gilbert warily.

"Some things have changed."

"Ah-hah. Well, what do you say we order before we delve into sharing-time."

Gilbert ordered a bottle of wine and the prix fixe lunch—at 60 euros Ludwig was relieved his brother was paying—for the both of them.

"So," began Gilbert diplomatically, after a careful sip of wine. "Dare I ask what new development has you so…" He waved his hand vaguely. "Laissez-faire all of a sudden?"

Ludwig twirled his wine glass slowly by the stem, watching the deep, shimmering red slosh from side to side.

"I quit my job."

He glanced tentatively at his brother. Gilbert's eyebrows had disappeared up underneath his fringe of bangs.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Wow. I can't believe you actually did it."

"Me neither."

"Hope you told your boss he can go stuff it."

"In slightly different terms—yes, actually."

Gilbert ginned. "Hah, 'bout time. How long have you hated it there?"

"Too long."

"Well—" Gilbert shrugged. "That's great news. You can make a fresh start."

"That's exactly what I've been thinking about. But, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Could you see yourself making a fresh start?"

Gilbert hesitated with his glass halfway to his lips. He placed it back on the table, eyeing the reflection of the chandelier lights in its curved surface.

"Actually, that's why I wanted to talk to you."

Ludwig's heart thumped faster. "Is it?"

"Yeah. I… am starting afresh, as a matter of fact. Somewhere new."

Ludwig blinked in genuine surprise. "What? Where?"

"…Munich."

Now Ludwig's brow was furrowed in pure confusion. "What are you talking about? You hate Munich."

Gilbert shrugged, not meeting his brother's eyes. "I dunno. Never really given it much of a chance. Just a biased Dortmund fan I guess."

"I don't understand," said Ludwig flatly.

Finally Gilbert met his eyes. "Elsi and I are moving to Munich, Ludwig. Company's expanding. She needs to oversee the new Munich headquarters for a while."

"And what, you're just going to let her drag you along?"

"She's not dragging me anywhere. I want to go."

Ludwig was stunned into silence.

Gilbert heaved a deep sigh. "I… wanted to tell you before we send out the announcements. We're having a going-away party on—"

"I quit my job for you."

Gilbert's eyes flashed in irritation. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Making a fresh start. We were supposed to do it together."

Gilbert let out an exasperated huff of air. "Ludwig—we aren't _supposed_ to do anything together. Look, I'm happy for you that you quit a job you hate, but, I mean, what did you expect? That I'd just up and divorce my wife and run away with you to—Mexico or something?"

"I considered Mexico."

Gilbert stared. "You… are actually crazy."

Ludwig's hand tightened on his glass. "You don't understand. If you just—Gilbert, there is nothing holding us back from doing exactly what we want, except ourselves. Don't you see? Everything has been leading us to this. All we've had in our lives is dead ends and the same old habits, until now. This is our chance, to get free of that. We just have to be willing to take the plunge. Quitting my job was one of the last hurdles to clear. Now all that's left is for you to let go of this little world of your wife's where you clearly don't belong—"

"Hang on; you don't get to say where I belong or don't. What do you think, you fuck me a few times and suddenly you really know me, what's best for me? Better than anyone else, better than myself? After the decades we've barely spoken—is that how you think this works?"

They were beginning to get looks from the tables around them.

"I know unhappiness when I see it, Gilbert."

"And I suppose you have the solution?"

"Yes, I do, actually, and I'm trying to help you see that it's right in front of you, that this is how it's meant to be—"

"Meant to be—?"

Just then the black-clad waiter appeared at their table with their first course. Gilbert bit his tongue, trying not to show his annoyance. It took an excruciating twenty seconds of silence for the waiter to lay out the assortment of dishes: ceviche, polenta chips, some gelatinous yellow substance, accompanying green mystery blobs.

Ludwig eyed the large purple flower garnishing his bowl of raw mackerel. He had the unsettling feeling it was looking at him. He wondered if one was expected to eat it or not.

As soon as the waiter had gone, Gilbert leaned over the table without so much as a glance at his food.

"Would you cut it with the 'meant to be' destiny crap?" he hissed. "It was an affair, Ludwig, and now it's over. I have a wife and a life to get back to."

Ludwig kept staring at the flower. "You said you wouldn't toss me aside," he said very quietly, lips barely moving. "You said you wouldn't do that to me."

Gilbert sat back with a sigh. "Ludwig, I'm not tossing you aside. It's just—time for us to move on."

Finally Ludwig looked up at his brother, a strange expression in his eyes.

Gilbert leaned forward again. "Ludwig, I didn't lie to you. It's not like you're not gonna be part of my life. You're still my brother. It doesn't have to be the way it was before, when we barely spoke to each other; I'll call you, you can visit any time—we won't be strangers, alright? I still care about you."

"That's not enough."

"What?"

"Caring isn't enough."

Gilbert regarded him silently for a moment before shaking his head and turning his attention to his plate. "Let's eat," he said wearily.

Ludwig didn't eat though. He couldn't. His insides were writhing, his spine taught. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. He needed Gilbert to stop it, stop pretending. He couldn't be leaving, not really.

"You're not going to Munich."

Gilbert didn't look up from his polenta chips. "Ludwig, this isn't up for discussion. I am sorry it's such short notice; it was a surprise for us too."

 _Us._ _He means him and his wife. They're an 'us,' but we're not._

Gilbert gestured to Ludwig's plate. "Now come on, at least try to eat something. You were always more of a gourmet; you'd appreciate this ceviche."

It was the way he casually popped another chip in his mouth—as if there were nothing wrong, as if this were any other day, any other time they'd met for lunch as nothing but brothers who rarely spoke, as if Ludwig hadn't let go of everything that he'd built a life for himself out of all for Gilbert, as if his world wasn't crashing down around his ears—that was what made him break.

It was an impulse. A snap reaction to the punch he'd just received to his gut. His arm shot out across the table, sending the yellow jelly flying and the wine glasses crashing to the floor. He snatched his brother's wrist up in his fist so he couldn't take another bite.

Audible gasps came from all sides as faces turned towards the sudden smash of glass and ceramic shattering. Gilbert's mouth fell open, too startled at first to even react to Ludwig's grip on his arm.

"What gives you the right? What gives you the right to treat me like that?" Ludwig didn't bother to keep his voice down any more. Murmurs rippled through the tables around them.

"Ludwig," Gilbert gritted through clenched teeth. "Let go of me and stop making a scene."

Something flared in Ludwig's chest. Before he knew it he was on his feet. "You don't want a scene? Is that what you're afraid of? Is that what this is all about? Respectability? Reputation? Afraid your little brother's going to tell the world that you've been f—"

Gilbert didn't let him finish. In a flash, he lunged over the table and straight into his brother. The remainder of their lunch was dragged to the floor with the tablecloth as they went down in a tangle of limbs to the screams of several restaurant patrons.

The outraged voice of the maître d' boomed over the din.

"That's enough! Stop it this instant! How dare you start a brawl in my dining room? This is a civilized establishment! Break it up before I call the police!"

Gilbert shoved his brother away and got to his feet. "You're insane," he spat, straightening himself out before hurrying to the door.

Ludwig made to follow but the maître d' held him back, looking at Ludwig as if he were a particularly mangy rat he'd found in his prized kitchen. "Ah-ah, you're not leaving without paying that bill."

Ludwig swore under his breath.

"Be glad I'm not making you pay for the dishes as well," the man added with a threateningly raised eyebrow.

Ludwig practically shoved his bankcard at him and waited, fuming, while the transaction was completed, ignoring the scandalized looks of every diner in the restaurant.

If nothing else, he would make Gilbert pay him back for lunch.

…

The days passed in a blur.

Ludwig drank. He was in the habit of keeping his fridge stocked with beers so he could crack one open after work, but now he went through a normal week's supply in a day. It had been a long time since he last drank to get drunk.

At first he stayed home, lying in bed and getting up only to take a piss, grab another beer, or get some form of sustenance from the pantry.

After having repeated that cycle several times—he couldn't be sure how many days exactly—he had grown tired of staring at his ceiling; and besides that, nothing remained in his kitchen apart from spices and herbs and a single stick of butter. He dragged himself outside.

He wandered. First towards Kreuzberg; he sat for hours in a park where used condoms and needles had been tossed behind bushes, and wasn't nearly as disturbed as he should have been by the fact he could easily be mistaken for one of the junkies lounging on the grass nearby. He hadn't showered or shaved for a while, nor had he taken much care in dressing himself.

Another day he rode the Ringbahn from afternoon until it stopped at midnight, and he gazed out the window the entire time at the city speeding by him, taking no notice of the occasional dubious glance thrown his way by a fellow passenger.

Yet another evening—he couldn't be sure which, one day bleeding into the next—he went to Warschauer Straße and watched the streams of people coming out of the O2 World after a sporting event, chanting and cheering. As the night wore on he watched the ever-thickening crowds turn to young party-goers flocking to the bars and clubs of Friedrichshain. He watched the trains come and go beneath the bridge, and contemplated for a long while the possibility of jumping onto the tracks below.

It would be a quick way to go, probably, but he supposed it would also be very messy. He wondered whose job it would be to clean it up. It was mostly out of consideration for that anonymous person that he didn't jump in the end, and made his way back home instead.

When he finally bothered to check his mailbox, he found a neatly addressed envelope waiting for him inside.

It was an invitation to a farewell party.

…

There were even more flowers than usual. Tables and tents strewn with garlands of them had been set up on the lawn, stretching down all the way to the willows along the inlet. To Ludwig it more closely resembled an extravagant wedding reception than a farewell party, and it smelled strongly of a florist's shop.

He had showered, and shaved, and ironed his best suit. None of it helped ease the feeling that he stuck out like a sore thumb among Elizaveta's moneyed milieu. He doubted any of these people were Gilbert's friends.

Gilbert himself was nowhere to be seen.

After making several circuits around the yard, speaking to no one, deliberately skirting around Roderich whom he spotted chatting down by the marina, and taking liberal advantage of the free champagne, it occurred to Ludwig that perhaps his brother hadn't even invited him at all. Maybe it had been Elsi who sent the invitation, wrongly assuming Gilbert would want him to be there. Maybe Gilbert was avoiding him. Or maybe he didn't even know he was there.

There was one way to find out. He headed towards a crowd of people gathered under one particular tent, where they were waiting their turn to give their well-wishes to the hostess.

After several minutes of listening to unimaginative variations on the theme of "you'll be sorely missed; it just won't be the same without you; do enjoy Munich, such a lovely city", Ludwig managed to jostle his way to the front of the group and catch Elizaveta's attention.

"Oh Ludwig! You've come after all—I'm so pleased."

"You weren't expecting me?"

"Well Gilbert said he didn't think you'd be able to make it, because of something about your work schedule?"

"Ah, that, right. No, everything worked out, fortunately."

"Well, good," Elsi said with a smile. "I'm sure Gilbert will be glad to see you."

"Yes… Actually, I wanted to ask if you know where he is?"

"Oh, is he still hiding in there?" She looked towards the house with a tsk. "He doesn't like these big crowds. I can let him know you're here, though."

"Ah no—no, that's not necessary, thank you; I'm sure he'll come out when he's ready."

Elizaveta sighed. "I suppose. I ought to tell him he's being rude to our guests, though." Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip in indecision. "Actually, though, I wanted to talk to you, if it's alright. About Gilbert."

Ludwig's heart beat in his throat. "Oh?"

Elsi glanced around. "Will you join me over here?" She beckoned him towards an unoccupied table slightly removed from the rest. They sat down next to each other.

Ludwig waited in apprehension as Elsi stared down at her lap, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress.

"Gilbert says—" she began, then reconsidered. She cleared her throat. "You remember a few weeks ago, when he visited you after his trip to Kiel?"

Ludwig tried to keep his face neutral as he nodded.

Elizaveta paused again, choosing her words carefully. Finally she settled on, "How long was he actually with you?"

Ludwig's heart was beating so hard he was afraid Elizaveta would hear it. _I'm the last one she'd suspect_ , he reminded himself.

"Just the one day. He went back to his friend's for a bit after he dropped in for lunch, but he came back to my place later."

"And he spent the night with you?" Elsi's eyes were narrowed as if she were doing arithmetic in her head.

Ludwig tried to guess what she meant by "with you."

"Yes, he spent the night at my apartment."

"Hmm." Elsi frowned, gazing into the distance over Ludwig's shoulder.

She was suspicious, but not of him. Ludwig relaxed just a fraction.

She cleared her throat again, ran nervous fingers through her hair. "And, you haven't noticed… anything…" She let her hands fall back to her lap with a sigh. "Oh, I should just be straightforward with you." She braced herself and looked directly into Ludwig's face. "Is Gilbert having an affair?"

Ludwig's collar felt much too tight. It was awfully stiff. Damn formal wear.

He tried to look surprised. "Not to my knowledge. You—you think he is?"

Elizaveta raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Oh Ludwig, you're not a very good liar, you know that?" She heaved another sigh and set her chin unhappily on her hand.

Ludwig was paralyzed. What was he supposed to do when she called his bluff?

He cleared his throat. "I… don't know what you're talking—"

"Don't bother," she said dully. "It's alright though. I can't really expect you to tattle on your own brother. I understand, if you want to keep his secret."

Ludwig closed his mouth, unsure what to do with himself.

He was honestly curious, though, and despite himself he ventured to ask, "What makes you think Gilbert is having an affair?"

Elizaveta's shoulders hunched inwards. "A wife can tell, that's all."

She looked unhappy. Ludwig knew, on some level, he was responsible for that, but he didn't feel responsible. He couldn't feel her pain. She seemed so removed from him, her and her sadness and sophisticated taste sealed off in a glass case: for display only.

He'd thought she would be angry. Why wasn't she angry? And why did he almost feel disappointed at that?

"But… if you're going to Munich… what does it matter if he was having an affair in Berlin? It'll have to stop now, in any case." He struggled to keep a note of bitterness out of his voice.

Elizaveta shifted, a suddenly sheepish look on her face. "Oh, that…" Her hand went to rub her neck as she glanced around. "Can I tell you something?"

Ludwig was intrigued by the abrupt change in manner. "Of course."

She bit her lip, picking distractedly at her nails. "We're not going."

Ludwig blinked. "Not going?"

"We're not moving to Munich." She grimaced.

Confusion mixed with the ball of anxious excitement growing in the pit of Ludwig's stomach. "But, the party—"

"I know, I know. It all changed at a meeting yesterday," she grumbled exasperatedly. "Things came up last minute—short story is, it would be best if I stay in Berlin after all. But it's not like I could just cancel the party! Everything was already set up, the catering arranged and paid for—I even bought this dress for the event. I just figured it would be best to go through with it, and then in a few days we'll send out the announcement—'we're staying, surprise! Thanks for dropping by anyway!'"

Ludwig barely heard what she was saying. His brain had caught on the words "stay in Berlin" and couldn't get past them. His stomach was filled with the flutterings of many deranged butterflies.

"You're staying in Berlin," he said slowly, more to himself than to Elsi.

"Yup."

The butterflies didn't relent, and now his head felt light and floaty.

"Would you excuse me? I think I'd like to go speak with my brother," he murmured, rising quickly from his seat.

"Oh—of course. Just tell him to come out and be social!" Elsi called to his already retreating back.

Ludwig searched every room on the ground floor of the villa—twice, because it was so sprawling he could have easily passed Gilbert by accident—before determining that his brother must be upstairs. A gut feeling made him turn towards the guestrooms rather than the master suite; he knew which door to try.

Sure enough, in the bedroom with the white linens he found Gilbert, standing at the window. He hadn't heard the door open, so Ludwig stood a moment, just to take in the sight.

The summer evening's honey rays diffused around his outline, making him seem so insubstantial Ludwig was almost afraid he would disappear before his eyes, nothing but a desert mirage. Against the empty, still bright sky outside he looked like a vision of the last man left on earth.

"It's kind of cheating, isn't it?" Ludwig spoke, his voice even.

Gilbert spun around, and the illusion was broken. His alarmed expression quickly morphed into one of mistrust.

"Having a going-away party when you're not even going away," clarified Ludwig.

Gilbert's lips twitched.

"Sort of like—getting to attend your own funeral," Ludwig continued. "Hearing all the bullshit people make up to say about you, how great you were, even if they didn't give two fucks while you were alive."

"What are you doing here?" was Gilbert's flat reply.

"I got an invitation in the mail. Looked expensive—heavy paper, embossed letters and all. Was it?"

"I wouldn't know. Elsi did the invitations."

"Of course she did. So I take it you didn't know one was sent to me."

"I knew. Didn't think you'd have the guts to accept it, though."

"Hm. Just when you think you know a person."

Neither of them had moved from their positions at opposite sides of the room. Ludwig lounged by the door, Gilbert stood tense by the window.

"You know it doesn't change anything," he said quietly.

"Doesn't it?"

"No. It doesn't." There was steel in Gilbert's voice.

A sharp sting of annoyance pulsed through Ludwig's temples. "You're honestly trying to tell me you're ready to give this up? Just throw it away? What we had—what we _have_ ; you don't find passion like that more than once in a lifetime, Gilbert. Hell, most people don't even find it _once_ —"

"Yes, Ludwig, I fucking loved it, alright? Is that what you want to hear? It was exciting. The sex was fantastic. But it's not gonna solve our problems, like you seem to think. What you're suggesting? It's crazy. I mean, bigger issues of completely uprooting our lives aside: can you even imagine us living together, honestly? We'd drive each other insane; probably kill each other within a week."

"What about that day here by the lake? Things didn't get too murderous then. In fact I'd say it was pretty ideal. Don't try to deny it, Gilbert; I know you felt it too." He stepped forward. "How _right_ it was—"

"I have a feeling more days would end up like that one at Wannsee," muttered Gilbert. "With me holding you under the water for being such a brat—"

"We _found_ something together, Gilbert—you're just not willing to admit it!" Ludwig advanced on his brother. "You're so scared of change you don't even want to consider it, because deep down you know it would be for the better! The chance to be with the person you were made to be with—"

"I wasn't made for you!" objected Gilbert, drawing away. "You're so—God, this is just like you. You know what you are? You're obsessive. You have an obsessive personality. It's like a compulsion for you—you need something to obsess over, to control. For a while it was work, it was professional perfection. And now it's me. That's it, that's all it is; you've just shifted the focus. I'm just the current object of your obsession."

Ludwig's chest and gut flared red-hot.

"Oh, so I'm the one to blame, am I? Me and my supposedly dysfunctional personality? I don't think so, Gilbert. Remind me, which one of us was it that actually started this whole thing? It was you—you and your slavish need for attention. You _want_ someone to obsess over you. But your wife doesn't exactly fulfill that need, does she? In fact, she eclipses you in every way. She gets all the attention, and you're left on the sidelines. Dispensable, even to her. And when you realized that, you had to find someone else to make you feel special again. Didn't matter who. I just happened to be the nearest warm body, and that was good enough for you!"

"You wish! You wish I needed your attention!" Gilbert was in his face now.

"Oh, you don't? Then why _did_ you do it, Gilbert?" shouted Ludwig. "What made you think it would be a good idea to start fucking your brother?"

Gilbert turned back to the window, gripping the sill. "You really don't know how to just drop it, do you," he growled.

Ludwig grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around.

"I'm not dropping it until I get a satisfactory answer. It's the least I deserve, and you know it. Tell me: why?"

Gilbert glared, then rolled his eyes. "Well, somebody had to get the stick out of your ass—"

Ludwig shoved him against the wall, his lips swiftly following to crush against Gilbert's.

It was rough and raw. Gilbert opened his mouth, but didn't kiss back.

Ludwig pulled away only a hair's breadth to murmur against his brother's lips. "No, you did it because you needed it, still need it, just as much as I do." He pressed their mouths together again.

There was a moment of frantic liquid heat and teeth—and then the resounding _smack_ of a hand colliding with the side of Ludwig's face.

Ludwig staggered to the side, holding his smarting cheek and staring at his brother in shock.

Gilbert wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes furious slits. "I didn't say you could do that."

Ludwig let out a huff of laughter in disbelief. "Am I supposed to believe you don't want me to?"

Gilbert set his mouth resolutely.

Ludwig laughed again, still holding his cheek. "You're not serious," he murmured to himself. Then louder, his voice hoarse: "No, I don't believe you. You're lying, you're lying to yourself—I know you need it. I've felt it, every time we've been together—"

"Oh, for God's sake! I am not listening to this anymore." Gilbert brushed past, but Ludwig seized his arm in desperation.

"Gilbert—think about this for a moment. Think about what you're doing!"

Gilbert tore away from Ludwig's grasp. "I _have_ thought, Ludwig!" He stormed out of the room.

"How can you say that?" Ludwig cried after him. "How could you possibly—"

The door slammed shut in his face. Ludwig ripped it open and rushed into the hallway, trailing his brother to the stairs and stumbling down them two at a time.

"You can't just walk away from this! From me! This is the most exciting thing you've ever done in your entire pathetic life—why would you want to go back? Admit it, I'm the best thing that ever happened to you!"

Gilbert turned at the bottom of the steps. "Oh, and I'm the attention-craver here?" he spat. "Which one of us needs his ego stroked more d'you think, huh?"

Ludwig took the last few steps in one leap, but his brother was already off down the hall towards the back of the house.

"At least tell me why!" he yelled, disregarding the alarmed caterers at the end of the hall. "Why are you trading me in for mediocrity?"

They came out into the sitting room with the billowing white curtains on the French doors. The caterers scurried outside or back to the kitchen with their trays, eyes averted.

Gilbert halted. Ludwig stopped short behind him, chest heaving. A sea of voices washed over them, wafted in on the breeze from the patio and lawn. Just on the other side of the curtains. An entire world away.

Gilbert turned to him with hard eyes.

"Has it never occurred to you that I like my life? Well enough to try to make it work, at least. Which is more than you can say. God, you're so fucked up you can't tell up from down anymore. But I didn't do that to you. It's not my fault you latched on to me because you don't have anyone else—and now I finally get why that is. So don't try to pin your problems on me, Ludwig."

Gilbert turned on his heel and marched outside.

Ludwig felt hollow. Like a tree stuck by lightening, its insides all burned up. Nothing left but a smoking, charred hull.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there. Eventually his feet moved, carried him out onto the patio without him commanding them to do so.

He scanned the crowd of faces, a blur of bright lipstick, white grinning teeth and gleaming designer-framed glasses. He pushed through them—barely noticing the dirty looks he got for bumping more than a few shoulders—until he commanded a view of the lawn.

Waves upon waves of fresh pressed suits, the lightweight kind made for summer weather. Brimmed hats and matching dresses. Difficult to tell one from the next. Ludwig vaguely wondered how Elizaveta knew so many people.

Elizaveta. Where was she?

Ludwig's eyes wandered, searching for the largest cluster of guests.

…There. By the rose garden. Still surrounded by a swarm of well-wishers.

Gilbert was making his way towards her.

Ludwig watched them from a distance. Still empty, still a blackened tree trunk.

Gilbert paused slightly behind his wife, hands in his pockets. She was speaking animatedly with a couple of guests. Ignoring him, as usual. He looked uncomfortable.

Finally he stepped forward to insert himself into the conversation. Feigning casualness.

Elsi turned to her husband in surprise and seemed to excuse herself from the others. She pulled Gilbert aside, apparently to admonish him.

A pang of vindictive righteousness went through Ludwig's gut.

Just a moment later, though, it went sour; Elizaveta's hand was on Gilbert's cheek. Ludwig couldn't make out her features, but he imagined she was concerned. Maybe sad. She suspected her husband of unfaithfulness. Yet she wasn't angry. Gilbert touched her waist lightly, leaned into her hand.

The embers of charred wood flared in Ludwig's hollow belly.

Before he knew it he was down on the lawn, making a beeline for his brother.

He could see Gilbert's eyes in his mind, clouding with ecstasy as they gazed into his own. He could hear him gasping his name. He could feel the heat of his body engulfing him, flames licking at his insides, spreading from his stomach to the tip of every extremity.

Gilbert saw him coming. Saw the intent in his face. He went rigid, pulled abruptly away from his wife. He darted into the crowd, away from Ludwig.

Surprised exclamations went up and champagne sloshed onto shirts as the host of the party pushed people aside in his hurry. Ludwig hurried, too, but the long, elaborately lain tables and stubborn knots of clueless guests tripped him up.

Gilbert was heading down the lawn towards the willows. Their flowers had mostly fallen by now, and lay like so much white detritus along the muddy banks of the inlet. A few people glanced around curiously as Gilbert rushed past them, but they mostly returned to their drinks and chatter after only a moment.

A number of guests had gathered on the footbridge to enjoy the view of the lake. Gilbert saw them blocking his way across and turned aside, heading along the bank instead.

Ludwig wondered where his brother thought he was going. He had him cornered now, he was sure. They would have this confrontation, wherever Gilbert happened to stop, audience or no.

His question was answered when Gilbert reached the marina on the inlet. He sprang into the small boat, released it from its moorings, and pushed off with all his might.

Ludwig raced down to the dock, but the boat was already on the other side of a tall clump of reeds. Gilbert was heading out onto the lake.

Ludwig swore loudly. It drew the attention of those near him who weren't already watching in confusion and interest.

He tore back up the bank to the bridge and shoved his way across, ignoring the angry comments of the onlookers.

Gilbert was rounding the point, after which was wide-open water. Ludwig sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him: away from the path that circled the lake, through the trees and down to the pebbled shore.

Gilbert looked up just in time to see his brother charging into the water up to his thighs.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Ludwig didn't heed him. He lunged for the side of the boat and grasped it with one hand.

"Get off!" Gilbert struck out at him with the oar, but Ludwig caught it with his other hand and tugged, sending Gilbert to his hands and knees in the bottom of the boat.

He cast the oar aside in the water and pulled himself aboard, the boat rocking wildly and threatening to tip.

"What the hell Ludwig?" yelled Gilbert again, as his brother dragged his feet inside and settled on a bench. "And that's the only oar! Fuck!"

"Well I guess you're stuck with me then, aren't you?"

They were drifting swiftly out onto the lake, while the oar bumped up against the shore in the gently lapping shallows.

Gilbert looked for a moment like he might jump in after it, but then glanced down at the murky water and thought better of it. He sat back on the bench opposite Ludwig, head in his hands.

"Jesus…" he groaned.

"Didn't think that one through, did you? What did you think, you could just row-row your boat gently across the lake and never have to see me again? It's not exactly the largest body of water, Gilbert."

"Yeah, well, it seemed like a better option than you screaming at me in front of my wife!"

The word _wife_ sent an unpleasant shock through Ludwig's system. Hands on cheek and waist; gentle, soft.

"You owe me an apology," he hissed through his teeth.

" _I_ owe _you_ an apology?" Gilbert raised his voice. "I'm not the one that's blown things completely out of proportion every. Fucking. Time!"

"What the hell was this to you?" Now Ludwig was yelling again too. "What am I to you even?"

"You're my brother!"

"Well you seemed pretty content to treat me like something else just when it pleased you! You fucking selfish bastard!"

"I'm not the one being selfish here, Ludwig! I thought we had an understanding—I never asked you to give up your whole life just to live out some sex-crazed fantasy!"

"An understanding? There was never an understanding! You only saw what you wanted to see, so you wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of what you started! You're a fucking liar and a coward!"

"Oh, well as long as we're flinging names around! You're a self-righteous, entitled little brat! You act like you fucking own me, but you don't even know the first thing about me, Ludwig!"

"I know that you're a needy, pathetic, manipulative man. You used me! I'm entitled? Well what gives you the right to use me like your fucking plaything?! You don't own me either!"

"Jesus Christ, Ludwig, not every sexual relationship has to end up in a life-long commitment! It felt good, it was fun, until you ruined it!"

" _Fun?!_ Is that all I am to you? Fun? _You're my brother and you fucking used me for fun?!_ "

"Maybe I did! Maybe I did use you! Maybe I did just want some fun; I don't deserve to have my life ruined because of it!"

"And do I deserve it then?! Do I deserve to have my life ruined by a brother who—after _years_ of near-silence—just shows up and starts acting like he actually loves me?!"

" _I—didn't—ruin—your life!"_ Gilbert emphasized each word, his shredded vocal cords nearly cracking. "You did that to yourself! With your—sick fixation! I'm just one guy, Ludwig. Move on!"

The words slashed like a whip into Ludwig's skin. He flung himself at his brother, his hands flying instinctively to Gilbert's neck.

" _Don't tell me to move on!_ _Don't you dare tell me that!"_

Gilbert scratched viciously at the backs of Ludwig's hands, bucking to throw him off.

Ludwig kept a hold even as the boat pitched back and forth. The vitriol ripped from his throat without stop.

"You're not going to get away with this! You used me! You fucking bastard, how could you?! Apolog—"

He never got to finish. The boat lurched; he was top-heavy, off balance. For a split second he was suspended; nothing beneath his feet or hands. And then there was a great _whoosh_ and the sting of smacking into cold water.

He was enveloped by it, all the air punched out of his lungs. Iciness. Eerie stillness.

In reality it was only moments before he was able to orient himself and come up for air, but they lasted an eon. There was no up or down, no gravity, no air above or sunlight. Just an endless gray-green void that muffled every sense.

And then he broke the surface. He gasped. Suddenly everything was too immediate, too real. The brightness of the sky, the myriad sounds floating over the water, the chill of a light breeze on his wet skin.

He looked to his right and saw the boat capsized a few meters away. He tried to swim to it, but his shoes were weighing him down. He kicked them off and let them sink.

"Gilbert?" he spluttered as he reached the boat. He glanced around: nothing but the shimmering, ever-shifting mirror of the lake surface.

Ludwig pulled himself around to the other side of the boat.

"Gilbert!"

Still nothing.

He looked down, back into the unplumbable depths. With a great gulp of air, he plunged.

Unearthly, fluctuating patterns of sunlight filtered through algae and other particles, illuminating nothing but varying shades of green in every direction. Not even a fish.

He went deeper. His eyes strained through the darkening waters. It was colder, too. He didn't think he could go much further.

And then he saw it. A pale hand stretched out in the green black depths.

Ludwig's lungs were beginning to burn, but there was no time to go back up for air. He forced himself towards the hand.

Now he could see the arm attached to it, the indistinct shadow of a man's form. He strained on, bubbles escaping his lips.

Finally, his fingers grasped the white wrist. Limp. Gilbert's eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, as if asleep.

Ludwig tugged with all his might. He wrapped one arm around his brother and pushed upwards. His heart was hammering in his chest, pounding in his ears; legs and lungs screaming for air.

It was a long way up, and Gilbert was a heavy burden. He could see sunlight, brilliant white if he looked up directly into it. The surface seemed as distant and unreachable as the source of the light itself.

His entire body was on fire, writhing, clawing towards air. His arm was like an iron band around Gilbert's chest, clenching in desperation. He was on the brink of collapse, implosion.

At the moment he thought he really would give in, at the moment his lungs could tolerate no more, he felt the water part over the crown of his head, and with a roar in his ears he could suddenly feel the air again.

Never had it felt so good to breathe. In the instant the air rushed back into his lungs, he was sure he would never take it for granted again. The one thing that was always available in abundance: suddenly, he couldn't get enough.

But the blissful relief passed quickly, his insides twisting with an entirely different anxiety.

"Gilbert," he coughed, shaking his brother.

Gilbert's head lolled on Ludwig's shoulder.

He dragged him to the boat and leaned him against the side as best he could.

"Gilbert, talk to me," he muttered, feeling for a pulse.

There was one. But it was much too slow.

No sign of breathing.

Bracing himself against the boat, Ludwig pinched his brother's nose and held his chin. The position was awkward while treading water. He covered Gilbert's mouth with his own and breathed.

One, two.

No reaction.

He tried again. One, two.

Nothing.

What he needed was to lay Gilbert down somewhere, do this properly—but the boat was too large for him to right it on his own, and swimming back to shore would take much too long with his brother in tow.

Again. One, two. It had to work, it had to. There was nothing else he could do.

Gilbert didn't respond.

"Gilbert!" Ludwig's hands clutched at his brother's soaked garments. He sobbed. "Wake up, Gilbert. Don't do this, don't do this…"

He gave him two more breaths.

Still nothing.

"C'mon, Gilbert, no, no no no…"

Again, two breaths.

Gilbert's features stayed locked in their slumber-like calm.

"No!" screamed Ludwig, frustration and fear bursting from his chest in one cry.

He brought a fist down on Gilbert's sternum as something shattered within him.

And then Gilbert convulsed.

Ludwig's heart stopped.

With a choking gurgle, water came streaming from Gilbert's mouth. He spasmed again and his arms flailed, grasping for solid support as he coughed and gasped for air.

"Gilbert! Gilbert, I got you, I got you," Ludwig soothed, pulling his brother into his arms.

Gilbert clutched at him as he drew in rattling, watery breaths.

Ludwig was too numb for relief. The tension of moments before hadn't yet left his muscles, and the realization that he had pulled Gilbert back from death's door hadn't quite sunk in. He simply held his quivering form tight, reveling in the aliveness of the body in his arms, but almost afraid to trust that he really had his brother back.

"I've got you. I have you," he repeated like an incantation, keeping them both afloat.

He knew they had to get out of the water, though. Gilbert was shivering. The boat was no longer an option; they would have to swim.

Ludwig started towards the shore, pulling his brother along. Each of them kept an arm around the other.

They hadn't gone very far when Ludwig noticed.

There were people, lining the shore of the point. He couldn't yet see their faces, but he was sure they were all looking on with rapt attention.

He swam directly towards them. There was nowhere else to go.

Nearly half the party must have been gathered there, by Ludwig's estimate. Considering the way sound carried over water, he assumed they had heard everything. Or at least enough.

He and Gilbert swam for what felt like an age, slowed by the extra weight of all those gazes. As they neared the shore they could hear murmurs rippling through the crowd.

Finally they struggled upright in the shallows and stumbled onto dry land. A hush fell around them.

No one spoke a word. No one moved to help. Pair after pair of eyes simply stared. Ludwig had the impression of being an actor on a movie screen, observed in silence by the anonymous masses.

He stepped forward, Gilbert's arm still slung over his shoulders. The crowd parted as the Red Sea before them.

They made their way, slowly and deliberately, past face after stunned face, back to the path, back to the footbridge, under the willows. Silence spread before them as they walked, like a wave pushing inexorably outward to drown the remaining blithe and frivolous voices drifting on the fragrant air.

Heads turned as they trudged up the long stretch of lawn to the patio steps.

There at the top waited Elizaveta.

The brothers climbed up, their feet never faltering, until they stood dripping before her.

She appeared calm; but from the expression in her eyes they knew that she knew.

She surveyed them quietly for a moment.

"I'll go get some towels," was all she said, before disappearing into the house.

A little ways away Roderich Edelstein was staring with a dumbly open mouth. As soon as one of the brothers spotted him his mouth snapped shut and he quickly pretended to be engrossed in drinking his champagne.

Gilbert and Ludwig sat in two wicker chairs to await Elsi's return, too exhausted to speak or move. Their eyes met for a moment, neither ashamed nor accusing, neither expectant nor apprehensive. No outside observer could glean from their faces the nature of the understanding they had reached, if indeed there was an understanding at all. They simply looked at each other, then out beyond the sea of watchful people to the lake.

The sun was just beginning to set, its belly scraping the tops of the trees on the far shore. Its orange glow set the lake on fire. It purified as it burned.

The heady perfume of the afternoon air dissolved, replaced by fresh, earthy green. The brothers breathed freely. Around them the evening was still, but they could feel a long and potent hypnosis lifting, as if the world were rising from a waking dream and seeing for the first time with clear eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Just a biased Dortmund fan": Gilbert is referring to the football (soccer) club Borussia Dortmund, which has a famous rivalry with FC Bayern, the Munich-based team.
> 
> The Ringbahn is an S-Bahn line that runs-you guessed it, in a big ring around the central districts of Berlin. In the rare times when there is no construction happening on any part of the line, one could, theoretically, ride the Bahn around and around until it stops (on weeknights in Berlin regular public transportation runs until midnight; on Friday and Saturday night it's extended all night).
> 
> Warschauer Straße is a street and S/U-Bahn stop in the neighborhood of Friedrichshain. It is a well known nightlife destination and always crowded on a weekend night.


End file.
